


you and me, baby (how about it?)

by stevebuckiest



Series: the sub steve book club [14]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bottom Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes Has Chest Hair!, Dom Bucky Barnes, Fluffy Ending, Hotel Sex, Lipstick & Lip Gloss, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Military leave, Napping, POV Steve Rogers, Post-Coital Cuddling, Praise Kink, Romantic Gestures, Secret Relationship, Sub Steve Rogers, Subspace, Top Bucky Barnes, Valentine's Day, Wartime Romance, just lipstick but
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:21:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 27,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29279127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stevebuckiest/pseuds/stevebuckiest
Summary: It’s almost Valentine’s day, is the thing. It might be dumb, but it’s a holiday about love, which being in battle hasn’t exactly given he or Bucky much room to show.(alternatively: steve and bucky get lucky enough to have leave on valentine’s day. there’s lipstick and a lot of love involved in how they choose to spend it)
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: the sub steve book club [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1891096
Comments: 21
Kudos: 108





	1. chapter one

**Author's Note:**

> round two of my valentine’s day fics! this time the sub steve book club edition. i’m not going for historical accuracy here so please don’t complain, but for the record, the year this is set in is 1944.

Despite the fact that his newfound status as an All-American hero might make the general public think differently (although that’s the whole point of propaganda, isn’t it?), Steve Rogers is no stranger to hardship. Hell, the way things have been and are all around, no one stuck here or anywhere else in the world is a stranger to how tough the times have made things get. Steve, though, he’s used to struggling. How can he not be when that seems to have been all he’s done for his entire life?

Growing up as the sickly son of a single working mother meant that things were difficult for them a majority of the time even before the Depression hit. When it did, it hit them hard. The hospital didn’t pay much, and it cost even more, as did the medicine that Steve’s illnesses meant they had to buy, often so he could get healthy enough only to get sick again in a cycle that never seemed to cease. 

Steve can’t recall a moment in life where money hadn’t been an issue for him and his Ma, God rest her soul. If only she could see him now. He’s spent a lot of time after the serum wondering what she would think. 

Bucky says she would at the very least be happy that Steve is healthy now, and Steve knows that’s true even if it would also be something a bit bittersweet considering how she never wished the necessity to go to war upon him in the first place- that’s what had taken his father from them, after all. Made him a face that’s only familiar to Steve from the photos that are far back in Brooklyn at home. The fact that going to war would be what fixed him… Steve’s less sure about how she would feel about that. 

As sick as he was before the serum and before the war even began, Steve had always taken a shine to the fact his father was a soldier. He wanted to be strong, just like him, but often ended up being more stubborn than anything thanks to what kind of body he was stuck in, one that was almost always waging a war of its own. Sarah wasn’t shy about how much she didn’t like it, but she never tried to stop him from believing in what he could be even when conditions made it so they both knew it was bordering on impossible. 

She had a shrine of sorts in her bedroom for Joseph, up high on the dresser where Steve can recall staring up and daydreaming from the floor where he used to play while she got ready for shifts at works that meant he’d be on his own for a long while that to a little kid never seemed to end. He didn’t get tall enough for a long time to really see what was up there past the frame filled with the photo of him in uniform, but once he did, what he saw only fueled his desire to be someone- a _soldier-_ just like him. 

It wasn’t much. The medal he’d been awarded for his death. The flag that had been folded for his funeral. His old tags. A half empty bottle of the aftershave he never got to finish using. 

After Steve’s Ma passed, she took all the stories and memories she had of him with her. Those items and that idolization were all that Steve had left of his Pa, plus a few memories of his own that were marked by his mother stroking his face and telling him she could feel his spirit in him. 

_“You want to be a soldier like your father, don’t you?”_ she’d once asked, during one of the rare times when she had been sick instead of Steve, stuffed up with something she’d picked up on a shift that meant Steve had had to stay with the neighbors for the better part of the week. She’d been able to shake it that time around- at the time Steve had barely been six. 

Steve had nodded, answered with the conviction that came with being a kid who couldn’t imagine being anything different than what they wanted, not yet aware of what else the world would throw his way. _“Yes, mama. More than anything.”_

Something was said about how much Sarah loved Steve when she didn’t scoff, didn’t scold, didn’t snap at him and tell him what he could or couldn’t be. She had only sighed and reached out to hold him for the first time since she had gotten sick to begin with. 

_“Well,”_ she’d murmured. _“I imagine that’s what Joe would want.”_ She’d cupped his face and pulled him close, Steve staring at her with large eyes. _“You and him. Acorn and tree. Once he got an idea lodged in his head, there was no shaking it loose either.”_ Then, with a strength that always served to bring out the accent she’d tried to soften over the years even stronger, _“Whatever you dream, you can_ be. _But you’re gonna have to_ fight _for it.”_

Steve had nodded, unsure of what else to do but knowing better than to interrupt. He bad gotten his habit of self righteous speeches from somewhere, after all. Though he’d say were always better worded than his. 

That instance had been no different. The sheer amount of determination in her voice made sure of that. _“People are gonna spend your whole life taking one look at your body and telling you what you can and can’t do. I won’t be one of them.”_ Then, touching over his chest with a thin hand- “ _They can’t see like I do- it holds a heart ten times its size.”_

He got that heart from her, truth be told. He may have held his Pa up on a pedestal sometimes, but Sarah was his real hero and anyone who was anyone to him knew it, including her. She’d held his hand for what came next, squeezing best she could given how sick she still was. 

_“You got no quit in you.”_ That was because of her too, and her next words proved it. _“Just promise your mama you’ll use that hard head of yours too. There’s a fine line between fearless and foolhardy. Took your father from us far too soon.”_

He’d nodded again. _“I promise, mama.”_

The final part was what stuck with him most, both until her death and after, even now. Especially now. 

“ _Now you listen close, Steven, and you listen to me careful. You get knocked down- doesn’t matter by who, doesn’t matter by what. You get knocked down- You_ always _stand back up.”_

After that, Steve always had tried to, even when on some days it felt like he couldn’t even get his spine up straight whether it be because of bullies or because of his body on its own. Steve was used to being on his own, though. Had to be, with how he grew up. 

Sarah had loved him- she always did her best, and it was _always_ good enough even when the amount of food on the table and fights Steve got into made things tough. She always did her best, but although Steve knew she loved him, she was also a single mother who more times than not took shifts that left Steve back home alone. 

She took those shifts _because_ she loved him. Steve was never bitter about that, even when he wished things were better. That maybe he and his Ma could be more like Bucky’s family and afford finer things, could take time to themselves that wouldn’t be spent with her worrying it away over hours she could have taken on being wasted. The Barnes’ weren’t rich- was anyone, really, once the Depression hit?- but they had a lot of things that Steve knew he didn’t, even with all that they did to make do. 

He’d had to grow up a little too quick in order to get by, often without anyone to guide the way when it came to learning lessons or life skills about things like _being a man,_ whatever that really mean _._ He had Bucky for most of that, thankfully, though they never talked about the fact he had to help teach Steve to learn how to do stuff like shave, shine his shoes, tie a tie, or even swim past chalking it up to teasing about Bucky being one year older. _Ahead of the game,_ he always called it. 

He knew Steve’s dad had no longer been around by the time he was born. The truth was, Bucky had his father and plenty of family to help with those kinds of things. Steve… well, a lot of the time, Steve didn’t have anyone but himself. 

His ma taught him what was really important, though, the things that were what _really_ made Steve into the man he is today- even more so than the serum coursing through his veins. Like she told him, _you always stand back up._ Half the time when Steve is out in the field fighting, it’s with her words in mind, warning him to use his head. Making him promise to be like his father without being as much of a fool.

Steve can’t say he’s always kept that promise. Like his father, he has his flaws. He’s stubborn (though Sarah knew that and loved him for it anyways), self righteous (even if he isn’t the rigid rule follower the brass now wants to make him out to be), he’s difficult at accepting criticism and charity alike. That last bit- not to best fit considering how much of that he could have used growing up, especially after his Ma died and he was left caught up in the grief of it on his own. 

Again, sometimes it seems like struggling is just something he’s done all his life. But he can admit, even with his pride- that period of time was perhaps the lowest in his life so far. He’s lost everything to live for, it seemed like. His mama, his money, his goddamn _mind-_ he’d had nothing. Not even himself, considering he couldn’t find it in him to want to stay alive, let alone stand up. 

Those first few weeks after Sarah was gone, after all the food and the money went as well, Steve had been more depressed than any state of the economy could make things. He’d let it beat him down, too, and that’s something of that he’s still mildly ashamed. Sarah taught him better than that, even if he was hurting. 

It had taken Bucky putting his foot down to pull him out. After days and days of being pushed away by Steve’s pride and the only stubbornness he could seem to manage, the man had come over to the Rogers’ now half empty apartment and walked right inside, using the spare key so that Steve didn’t even have the chance to try and tell him to stay away the way he had been doing since Sarah died. 

_“Pal, don’t even try and feed me whatever crock of shit you’ve been selling yourself and everyone else,”_ he’d sworn, cutting off Steve’s protests before they could even begin. Bucky knew and still knows him better than anyone, and he hadn’t been having it. _“You’re gonna let me help you- you’re hurting, Stevie. I can’t stand to see that when I know there’s something I can do.”_ Then, at Steve’s feeble fight back, he’d pulled him in tight until he was tucked up to his chest the way he’d been doing for nearly a year at that point. Kissed his hair and spoke his next words quietly into his scalp. _“You’re not some charity case I’m donating to. You’re my best friend even before you’re my best guy, and I love you too much to let you get away with leaving yourself out in the cold like this.”_

That, like Sarah’s words, had cut deep- and on that day, Steve had had to make a decision that he’d been putting off since the hurt of his Ma’s death first hit him. He’d always wanted to be a soldier, and maybe this wasn’t a war in the conventional sense. But it was something he had to survive. 

That was the question that was requiring him to choose- whether he was _wanting_ to survive or not. Whether he was going to stand up the way his mother always said he should or let the sadness sweep him away from the one person he loved that he had left alive. 

_You got no quit in you._ Bucky had repeated that statement back to him, stroking his back and shushing the tears he must have been able to tell were threatening to spill. It was something Sarah had said more than once to him when Bucky was around, most often after he hauled him home after another fight that Steve insisted started over something unfair. 

_“You got no quit in you,”_ he’d whispered. “So _don’t you quit on me, Steven Grant.”_

That was what finally made Steve break down enough to cry, sagging so much Bucky was essentially left holding both of their weights off the floor while Steve sobbed into his chest. Eventually, Bucky carried him to his room- perhaps the only occasion he could have done so without resulting in a conniption, back then- and got them both into the bed under the covers so he could hold him there instead, hushing Steve’s sounds anytime they neared too close to heaving or hyperventilating. The ordeal ended with him humming what Steve knew was his mother’s old lullaby as Steve cried himself to sleep still clinging to him like he was the last solid thing there was left. 

For Steve, he was. 

That hadn’t made accepting Bucky’s help a simple thing after that, though, not by a longshot. Steve was used to being on his own for the most part, so why should this struggle be any different? He had to at least try to get by on his own like he boasted he could back when Bucky’s concern had ample reason to be shown by how little the motivation for carrying out that claim clearly was. Moving in with Bucky like the other man offered was tempting to say yes to immediately. If anything, it meant they would be together in more than just the shadows of spare alone time, but Steve still had his Ma’s things and residual pride to sort out. He couldn’t make a home with Bucky so empty handed, but he didn’t even have a job, seeing as how out of sorts he had become. 

Unfortunately, not many people wanted to give a sickly, sullen man much more to go off of, either. Sarah had been right- people took one look at him, at his body, and told him he _couldn’t._ That he wasn’t _able._ Wasn’t _worthy._

Fuck them. Steve had promised Bucky (and Sarah, in his heart) that he would soldier on, and if he couldn’t have what he knew he needed to make his way… well, he learned to do a lot of things growing up in desperate moments, and Bucky may have taught him to shave, but he wasn’t Steve’s _father_ or a figure anywhere close to it. Steve wasn’t his dependent, wasn’t _damaged._ He’d be damned if he let anyone else tell him so. 

So he did what Sarah had taught him to do best. He made do, in every way he could. And sometimes that required taking what those people wouldn’t give. 

It’s not like Steve was holding the drug stores up on the weekends or anything- hell, he wasn’t _that_ far from who he was prior to Sarah’s passing- but sometimes, when the need was a necessity, when what little he got from the odd jobs wasn’t enough…

Steve was eighteen. Too old to rely on other people, but young enough to not yet fully know what living in the real world was like. He only took what he _had_ to, and it was never frivolous items or things anyone would miss. Half the time it was the worst, most paltry of the grocer’s produce when food was so low he could feel his stomach shrinking. Things like threadbare sweaters from the lost and found at the Y that had been there weeks when he could feel his own wear down enough let all the cold inside or thrown out newspapers to line his shoes with while the winter came in to fade out the fall. 

He only took what he had to. He’s no stranger to hardship, but accepting help... that was a little different. 

He had done so eventually to the degree that he knew Bucky was trying not to demand. If he’d known about the stealing (that Steve had had the sense to stop before letting Bucky be around so often to see all that he couldn’t afford showing up from places unspoken), Steve is sure he would have either been choked or coddled to death for running that risk when he didn’t have to with Bucky here to help, which is ironic for more than a few reasons. 

One, being because stealing isn't the most illegal thing Steve has done in his lifetime. That prize goes to what he and Bucky get up to in their private time (or more importantly what Bucky gets up to in _him_ ) considering they both know them just _kissing_ could still get them both killed, jailed, or locked up at the funny farm to shock it out of their systems. 

Two, being because Steve stealing moldy bread and moth eaten sweaters might have been enough for Bucky to chew him out or threaten to turn his hide black and blue if he knew. But if he knew that Steve was thinking about stealing something again _now,_ it’d most likely be a different story indeed. 

Though it’d most likely be more about the materials than the morals of the matter. Steve’s the one who’s supposed to be built of all the righteousness and reason and such that came with the aforementioned All-American hero shtick. _Bucky’s_ the one who has never had the problem with bending the rules with his reasoning, even if Steve was still the one more prone to breaking them. Steve doesn’t think it’ll be a problem now, not with what he’s looking at. 

He’d still probably have to clarify what that exactly is first, because his fella is nothing if not patient, but Steve doubts he’d be able to stay out of the proverbial doghouse if it got back to Bucky that Steve spent half his meeting staring right at Peggy Carter’s mouth instead of the map of maneuvers on the table between them. 

Bucky’s indulgent, especially when it comes to Steve, but he wouldn’t be having much of that. Thankfully _that_ is not what Steve is staring at. Not really. What he’s staring at is a little harder to explain. More something he wishes he could have for himself. Something he’s trying to scope out if he could handle _getting._

Steve only wants Bucky to see red in the figurative sense. He’s not trying to cause a fight- in fact, it’s the exact opposite. He’s _trying_ to get Bucky a present, one that’s pretty and red and only happens to be sitting right on Agent Carter’s lips. _That’s_ what Steve likes. That’s why he’s looking. Peggy is pretty, but Bucky’s his guy. There’s simply no competition, not even from someone with as fresh of curls as hers. 

He can’t exactly tell her he’s gay or anything, though. He likes her, but at the end of the day, she’s also close enough to their higher ups for that to be a risk not worth taking when it comes to something this important. Things are already tough enough for him and Bucky as they are, being so far from Brooklyn even without Steve’s transformed body in mind. He doesn’t need to burden them with more than what the war has already saddled them with. He _won’t._

For once, he’s playing the safe option, the one he knows his Ma would have wanted him to take had she ever known about him and Bucky in the first place (sometimes Steve likes to think some part of her did anyways). It’s the smart option as well, and he and Bucky both know it. 

It’s still caused more than one argument between them. Steve not being able to tell Peggy why he carries her picture even though he’s never so much as bothered to dance with her proper is already a sticky situation. Pairing it with how he has to let all the fellas tease him about how the two of them fawn and flirt even though most of their conversations are cordial at best, listen to the conspirations of a wartime romance spin themselves into a web that he has to struggle not to get caught up in- all while Bucky, the one who _actually_ is the lover with which Steve wants and wishes to do those things has to sit back and listen… It’s rotten luck, even though they both understand why they need to allow it. 

It’s with all that in mind that Steve makes sure to be careful while he tries to surreptitiously study the shade of crimson layered over her lips. It’s hard to tell with how sepia toned the lights are in here, but he suspects (now that he can see in full color that is) that it’s more pink based than what the girls use back home usually is. Distantly, he wonders how well his own rosy undertones would allow him to pull it off- or more importantly, if he could afford to put it on in the first place. _Affording_ in this case is more a matter of privacy than pinching pennies, for once. And the thought of stealing- Steve guesses that it’s just selfish this once too.

He doesn’t think he’d even be considering it were it not for the fact that she shot at him. That memory might seem like it’s far away, but in reality it’s only been a few months and Steve’s feathers have been ruffled ever since. He hadn’t _done_ anything. They weren’t seeing each other past the implication that he was sweet on her the way she seemed to be on him ever since he got the serum, and she hadn’t even bothered to see if he was alright after Lorraine had practically assaulted him. She’d took one look at him, ignored how helpless he felt, and shot him down quite literally from what had almost been one of the happiest moments in his life. Save for rescuing Bucky, getting that shield was the best thing that happened to him over here. 

That incident with it was an outlier, he hopes. He doesn’t think she had meant to be so… _mean_ about things because hasn’t much been that way otherwise, but be that as it may, it’s fuel for the reasoning he’s trying to set out in his mind as an excuse to swipe a tube of the lipstick he’s been contemplating for what must be at least the last twenty minutes. 

It’s almost Valentine’s day, is the thing. It might be dumb, but it’s a holiday about _love,_ which being in battle hasn’t exactly given he or Bucky much room to show. 

They’ve had more than a few holidays over here already. Steve hadn’t been able to spend his birthday with Bucky seeing as he’d been prancing around on stage like the patriotic man’s version of a drag queen while Bucky was god knows where being put through god knows what. After that had been Halloween only a bit after Azzano, but Steve doesn’t think either of them stopped to think about it with all that was happening. They’d spent Christmas together, at least, albeit while being sent on a mission that ran more than a slight risk of resulting in them getting their brains blown out. They have to take their wins where they can get them. 

Hardships over here usually amount to a lot more than a skipped over holiday, but that doesn’t stop Steve from wishing and wanting for them to be able to have (and for him to be able to _give_ ) a little something to celebrate what they still can given their conditions. Every day they’re over here there’s no telling how much time anyone has left. War is hell like that. 

They had managed to spare enough time to do something for Christmas. Maybe it’s silly, considering how serious everything around them is, but the trading of Bucky’s old tags with the letter Steve had written him one night in his tent to tell him everything they could rarely run the risk to say had meant a lot. Because it’s _Bucky_ , it had meant the world, war waging and women who wanted to be with him paling when it came to the comparison no one else could ever even hope to come close enough to make. Not when it comes to what the two of them have. 

It’s difficult over here to find the privacy to press close the way Steve seems to almost always wake up aching for these days, let alone the privacy to use Peggy’s lipstick the way Steve is wanting to even if he could manage to swipe it. It would be so easy, though. Her tent isn’t far from his, and all he’d have to do is stop in for a second. Maybe invite her to the mess tent for a meal, lean up against her makeup table (because people like them get luxuries like that, it seems) and slip his hand behind his back while waiting for her to get her coat to make their way outside. It would be so _easy_. He could do it, he’s sure, even if his hands are still a little clumsy with how capably large the serum had made them. 

But something in him (that suspiciously sounds like Bucky’s exasperated scolding) keeps him from going too far down that path of thought, let alone action. Part of it is probably his own pride. He’s proud of the fact that even when things got bad, even after he let himself be buried by it until Bucky pulled him out, he never took more than what was needed. Nothing more than what was necessary. Sarah Rogers raised a trooper, a son who wanted to be a soldier, not a thief. Not someone who _took_ from those when they didn’t really need to. 

And, Steve internally reasons, sighing as soft as he can with Colonel Phillips sitting so nearby. He doesn’t really need to right now, not anymore. Not in this case. Sure it would be nice with the holiday coming up next week and all, but they made do at Christmas and they’ll make do now with endeavors that do _not_ require stealing. 

Sure, Peggy shot him, but bullets are pretty common around here. Cosmetics are not. He’s supposed to be the big man now, according to the brass. He might as well be the bigger person to go along with that. He’s not himself with anyone but Bucky and the other Howlies anyways, if he’s being honest about things. 

He realizes he’s still staring when someone shuffles a paper next to him, the sound jerking him out of his reverie with a jostle. It thankfully goes unnoticed by anyone who might think he’s more preoccupied with wanting to kiss her than wanting to know what color she’s got on her lips so he can maybe wear it in private for the man he loves and let _him_ kiss him stupid into next week.

He puts the idea out of mind for now. He’ll find some other measure to take to make do. That’s what they’ve always done. Bucky always sees him, even when the time they can spend together so he can _look_ falls scarce, and a lot of things might be different but certain things between them never will be. Time, body, place- even without the lipstick or the holiday to help, Bucky knows he loves him. Steve just wishes their luck allowed more ways for him to show the other man just how much he means that.

He sighs and shifts so that his hands don’t show above the table when he twists them together. Makeup isn’t his first priority anyways. Maybe one day he’ll have the proper opportunity for it to be, but for now the war’s not going to be put on pause anytime soon unless providence decides to provide. With how much sinning he and Bucky usually get up to between the sheets (or at least their service provided blankets), Steve doubts that will be the case for the two of them. They were never quite the good Catholic boys their mothers wanted them to be past going to church, and being at war has practically ceased anything Steve still had left in him that led him to believe.

But with that being said, maybe there is some merit to the stories at least, even if the sources they came from said that Steve was a sinner already damned to hell. After all, what was it his mother used to say when he complained about why he was being dragged to Mass every Sunday? 

Don’t be a doubting Thomas. Yeah, he might have listened to a lot of her other speeches, but he’ll believe they get a break for Valentine’s Day when he sees it. And if he does, he won’t regret abstaining from stealing, that’s for sure. 

-

Fate must have a funny way of working when it comes to his luck, Steve’s learning, because barely five days ago he would have willingly sold his left shoe- one of the ones that went to his new supersuit, even- to hear what Peggy’s saying to him. Now here he is hearing it without even having to do anything at all. Not even _pray._

In his defense, he’s been pretty busy, practically beaten into the ground with all the grunt work the generals have had him and the other Howlies doing, not to mention the paperwork that’s been pending for what Steve _thinks_ is a declaration of neutrality. Unfortunately not for somewhere he is, but it’s a positive sign for changes that are clearly in the works. 

What’s another positive sign, though- that would Peggy’s for once genuine smile as she approaches him where he’s eating with Bucky inside their shared quarters. He shifts at the sound of her approach to be pressed up against the other man’s stretched out legs as inconspicuous as possible by the time her polished heels are stepping through their makeshift tent doors. 

She smiles, and Steve tries not to stare at her lipstick again. He’s pretty sure she’s wearing a different shade, but the lighting means he could more than likely be mistaken. Regardless, her teeth flash the same shiny white when she speaks, _cheerfully_ instead of her usual clipped off tone. Steve almost frowns, but sits up straighter in anticipation instead, fixed spine now fully allowing it. Bucky does the same from where he’s sitting sideways behind him on his bedroll. 

“Gentlemen.”

“Ma’am,” Bucky says, voice practiced and polite. Everyone present knows she doesn’t particularly care for him, enough for it to show, which Steve thinks is odd considering he hasn’t done anything either of them are aware of and he’s very obviously the most important person in Steve’s life- Steve, whose life she seems to want to be a part of. 

She must be in a good mood, because even her tone when she looks towards him is lighter than usual. “I have some rather pleasing news for you and your men. Present company included,” she adds, tipping her head towards Bucky. 

Her curls don’t budge, and Steve briefly marvels at how hard it must be to manage that and all of her other duties in the middle of a war zone. God knows he has difficulty even combing his own hair, and half the time Bucky doesn’t even bother to shave anymore. Shampoo is somewhat of a luxury, as are all toiletries. The scent of sweat has become somewhat of a staple in their surroundings. 

Peggy, for her own part, smells like perfume and gun oil, an interesting combination that has Steve flashing back to that day with the shield, but he doesn’t have time to stew in that again before she’s speaking back up with words he is very interested in hearing. Bucky, at a sideways glance, looks interested too. 

“It seems that Colonel Phillips has seen fit to give you and your men leave while we- that is, Colonel Phillips and our colleagues- finish interrogating the men your intel helped lead to bringing in this week.” She purses her lips at the same time Steve licks his own, perking up at the thought of getting personal and hopefully private time with the man behind him. 

Maybe providence is turning out to provide for them after all. 

“They’ve made plans for all of you to stay in town until next Tuesday. This _is_ a break but you will be asked not to become too inebriated in the case that the Colonel may need you,” she curls her mouth up a slight amount. “Think of it as an extended weekend. All accommodations are paid for by the service, but food will be at your own cost.”

Steve blinks, surprise still sinking in but heart already soaring. It’s Saturday night right now, which means they’ll have three entire days off. One of those being the very day Steve had been sore about not celebrating earlier- Valentine’s.

He’ll be able to spend it out of battle, and if Peggy’s itinerary isn’t too good to be true, with _Bucky._ In a hotel with a real bed, bathroom, bar- the works. For once, he’s in a position to be positive when he thinks about how he can’t believe his luck. 

Bucky is the first to break the silence that they’d settled into with the shock of such good news. No one around here is used to that. He whistles low, and leans over to shove Steve playfully in the shoulder with a smile that to anyone else wouldn’t mean a thing- but to Steve, he sees what it means, and to him that’s the world. He doesn’t get to see Bucky happy like this a whole lot anymore. 

“Well, lookit that, Cap,” he wonders. When they’re with other people is the only time he uses that title as anything more than a tease. “You being a bigshot with the brass does catch us some breaks, huh?” 

Steve’s skin tingles where Bucky’s hand had just brushed even through his shirt, entire body suddenly buzzing with excitement now that he knows they’re off the clock- but they still have company. He looks a Peggy, whose red lined smile has slipped only slightly. 

“What he means is thank you,” he says. Bucky might have a way with almost every lady. But in this case, with this woman, flattery is best offered up by Steve. Besides, he really is grateful. “I know the guys deserve this.”

Bucky snorts before Peggy can pick an answer. “So do you, pal.” He looks at Peggy and holds up his hand in a small salute. “I’ll see to it myself he lets himself relax. Scout’s honor, Agent Carter.”

Steve almost scowls, but decides to ditch the squabbling until they get their plans sorted out. Peggy still looks like she has things to say, and Steve has questions to ask too. He asks one now. “When do we head out?” He’s willing to _walk_ to that hotel if it means he can sleep somewhere warm next to Bucky without worrying about one of their comrades barging in and seeing something they shouldn’t, like Bucky’s hand between his legs or Steve on his back on a bedroll that isn’t his own. 

Luckily, it looks like he won’t have to. “The cars will leave tomorrow morning at ten to take you into town. Steve, there will be a meeting you and I will have to attend with Howard about modifying the suit an hour before then, but we should be done by the time for you and your men to depart.” She clasps her hands in front of her. “I’ll accompany you on the trip there to finalize your accommodations, but after that I won’t see you until Tuesday comes.”

_After_ Valentine’s Day, then. Listen, Steve likes Peggy, but he has to admit that being able to spend the day doing what he wants with _who_ he wants without an obligation to having to pretend otherwise… it’s an occasion that definitely has its perks, no offense to Peggy intendedl. She’s a good person. Just not _Steve’s_ person. 

Being able to spend time alone with Bucky, in a bed of their own with no battles in sight besides maybe hauling the Howlies away from the bar... they might even be able to take a _bath_ together if the tub is big enough. That’s something they haven’t been able to do since Brooklyn, since Steve’s body was ten times easier to tuck inside. Maybe they’ll be able to do something special after all. 

Steve tries not to let how lovesick he is show through in his expression, though his voice comes out a touch too eager when he speaks. “Understood.” Then, more genuinely, “Thank you, Peggy.”

She gives him a smile surrounded by the scarlet Steve had been so preoccupied with prior in the week. “You and your men are some of our best, Captain Rogers. We would be amiss if we didn’t give you some time to relax.”

Steve smiles back and sees Bucky do the same where he’s creeped up nearer to be next to him, humming his agreement when Steve scrubs a hand over the back of his neck and says “I guess we should rest up so we can get a start on that, then.”

“We’ll make sure to pack light,” Bucky jokes, knee nudging against Steve’s own, causally affectionate in the only way they can be with someone else around. “And I’ll make sure he brings the shield. Just in case.”

Steve struggles not to blush, but probably turns about the same hue as what Peggy has on her mouth from how heated his face feels. “Just in case,” he echoes, a weak attempt to follow up the joke of his own. 

Peggy doesn’t look amused by how coy Bucky sounds, but lets the remark slide with a tilt of her head and shift back onto her toes that tells Steve she’s about ready to leave. She confirms as much a second later. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, gentlemen,” she says, accent crisp. “Have a good night.” She waits for both of their replies for a brief moment, and then, with a flash of red she’s gone right out of the tent back to wherever she came from. 

The flaps have barely swung shut when Steve turns to Bucky, no longer having to hide his excitement now that it’s just the two of them alone. “How about that?” he breathes. 

Bucky just grunts and gets closer until he’s pulling Steve up against his shoulder, both of them sat on his bedroll side by side. “How about it, honey?” He flops his way best he can to lay down on the paltry excuse of a pillow the army has provided them with, Steve moving slower but doing the same on the other side of it. They’re now face to face, and Steve can see every individual crinkle by Bucky’s eyes form when he smiles. “Looks like good news still exists after all. And here I thought it was just a myth.”

Steve smiles back, soft and private into the small space between them where they’re curled up like parentheses. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Bucky shifts forward enough to brush their noses together, the barest amount of a tease before he goes on to inject that into his words instead. “Considering I have Captain America cuddled up to me most nights, I guess I shouldn’t be so surprised.” Then, with a crooked tilt of his lips, and hand creeping down to squeeze at Steve’s thigh through his fatigues, “Though you feel more like _man_ than myth to me, last time I checked.”

“Buck,” Steve’s breath catches, hand moving up to lay on Bucky’s chest, half exposed by how he always keeps his regulation thermal unbuttoned- which Steve would argue partially defeats the purpose of it, but if he gets to see Bucky’s body even in part, he’ll keep his mouth shut for once. He doesn’t do that for now, though, can’t with how they need to stay on track tonight before they go doing any of _that._ He clears his throat, Bucky looking at how flushed he is in amusement, always enamored by how easily flustered he can get even after all this time. “Shouldn’t we pack?”

Bucky hums and runs a hand through Steve’s hair to sit on the nape of his neck, squeezing there as well before using the leverage to pull him closer to lean in for a kiss that Steve lets himself go into gladly despite the fact it’s a distraction from the question he asked in the first place. Bucky is pulling away soon enough anyways to give him a response, albeit after their lips are both red and swollen. 

“There’ll be plenty of time for that tomorrow morning,” he murmurs, stroking his thumb over Steve’s freshly shaved skin at the ends of where his sideburn meets his cheek. Steve almost shivers at how sensitive it still is. “How about we make the most of all the free time we have right now?”

“Sounds like another excuse for you to feel me up,” Steve jokes quietly. God knows Bucky doesn’t need one, but that doesn’t stop him from making them, especially when they’re fresh out of the field and he insists upon checking Steve over head to toe, chest included. 

Bucky snorts, but doesn’t deny it. “You saying you don’t want me to, babydoll?” He lifts his leg up enough to shift it, slipping it forward to hook around Steve’s ankle like he’s trying to anchor him down on both ends. That’s probably a good move, because the next kiss he pulls Steve into is so well lead and heady if has him feeling like he’s on the verge of floating away. “Coulda fooled me.”

Steve sighs, fingers curling in under the neckline of Bucky’s henley to brush against the hair of his chest instead. He’d say Bucky’s caught him, but that would require Steve to be hiding in the first place, and he’s too happy right now to even consider doing that. They have _leave_. On Valentine’s Day. “Promise me you won’t put off packing ‘til the last minute.”

Bucky taps over the tip of his nose with his thumb. “Promise. As long as I can pack you with me.”

Steve rolls his eyes, huffing at the halfhearted line. “I don’t think I’ll exactly be a good fit for your bag.”

Bucky shrugs the shoulder that isn’t pressed against the ground, grin easy as Steve feels when he moves to pull him close enough to fit their bodies fully together. “I’ll get a bigger one.” He grins. “Or maybe just make you a carry on.”

Back in Brooklyn, Steve would have most likely smacked him silly for trying to pick him up, and here he’s not sure Bucky could pick him up at all anymore, but the line still makes him blush, body going pliant as Bucky plants another one on him. Packing is the last thing on his mind now that he has the man he loves pressed up against him. 

It’s gotten pretty late outside, late enough for Steve to let Bucky roll on top of him without having too much concern about what’s going on outside of their tent. It’s all background noise to him, and even with how busy his serum enhanced hearing can make things, he’s not focused on anything else in this moment besides Bucky holding him down and leaning in to kiss him so hungrily it very well may render their earlier trip to the mess tent in vain. 

They’re both still in their fatigues and boots, and the bedroll they’re both currently crowded on isn’t exactly the most comfortable place to be doing this- but it doesn’t matter, because it’s Bucky, and that’s always enough to make it better than anything. 

While Bucky’s next kisses eventually start making their way down his neck, Steve sighs contentedly and takes a second to think about how he’s glad that instead of stealing Peggy’s lipstick, he’s stealing these moments instead. It’s a shame that they have to _steal_ them in the first place, but if Steve’s going to take something selfish… he’s glad it’s this is all. 

He still wishes he would’ve been able to manage to get Bucky something special for Monday, but this leave might as well be enough for them to make do with. Still, he can’t help but wish. Can’t help but want. He’s always had a one track mind, though, and in this moment making out with Bucky is a much more pressing matter. Packing can wait. 

-

The next morning when Steve gets back to the tent- _their_ tent, with how long they’ve been camping out here together- Bucky’s things are already packed. Steve meant to put his things together too before he had his meeting, he really did, but as things were he’d woken up (later than their usual 6 AM rousing for once) to Bucky’s body still right behind him where they had their bedrolls placed side by side under the guise of preserving precious space used to store Steve’s suit and shield and all the knickknacks that go with it. 

Sleepy confusion and rolling closer had been enough reason for Steve to put packing off for what he meant to be just a little while longer, but one thing led to another and soon enough half the morning was gone and the meeting he had on his itinerary was far closer than he had intended. So much for making _Bucky_ promise not to put off packing until the last minute. Steve’s never gonna hear the end of this

Sure enough, the older man’s eyes are sparkling with mirth the second Steve walks in the tent and stops at the sight of Bucky’s packed bag sitting next to his own still strewn out belongings. “So much for you being the All-American boy scout,” he drawls. “Aren’t you supposed to always be prepared?” He lowers his voice to a purr that’s private from all the bustle going on outside their makeshift burlap doors. “Or are you only that way for me?”

Steve huffs at the smug look on Bucky’s own and hurrying over to start snatching up the clothes he had changed out of the night before and stuff them into the sides of his duffel where the rest of his dirty laundry for the weekend will go. “Shut up,” he grumps.

Bucky just laughs and crosses his legs where he’s sitting on the rickety chair in the corner where Steve usually signs off their mission reports after supper. Steve won’t miss having to do that for a few days. “C’mon, baby, don’t be that way,” he croons. “We’re about to go on our little romantic getaway. Can’t have my best guy mad at me for it.”

Steve perks up a little at that from where he’s finally begun packing, folding his clothes up so they’ll fit better into his bag. He holds the shirt he has in hand closer and gives Bucky a hopeful smile. “You remember?” He wasn’t actually sure he did until now. It’s not like he would blame Bucky if he didn’t considering what else they’re usually busy with, and they don’t exactly have easy access to a calendar. The days blur together a bit after a while. 

Bucky blows out a breath and gives Steve an exasperated look like what he’s asking is ridiculous. “How could I not? Half the nurses in camp have been gossiping about what they want the guys they like to do.” His expression softens, and he suddenly strides up and over to grab a shirt of his own and get to folding so the process will go along faster. “Besides, how could I let myself forget a day I’m supposed to spend making sure my sweetheart feels special?”

Steve smiles shyly and bumps their shoulders together before ducking down to better open up his duffel. “You make me feel that way every day, Buck.” It’s true. Even out here, where things are about as awful as they can get, where _Steve_ is now supposed to be the protector, Bucky does his best to keep the both safe, keep them both sane. 

The way he’s looking at Steve now makes him feel just as loved as he had during those lazy morning back in Brooklyn, where they could lay back and bask in just being able to be with each other. Steve misses those mornings more than he can ever say, even if they share a different version of them together over here when they can manage to stay in the same tent. It isn’t the same, but it’s something, and as Steve finishes putting his last pair of pants in his bag, he thinks that maybe in the next coming days they can have something _similar_ as well. 

They’ll both be given rooms wherever they stay with beds probably _better_ than their old beaten up one at home. Bigger, too, but what Steve’s really banking on is that they’ll be able to sleep in it side by side. They’d been able to do that the night after Azzano when they first came back together at the bar afterwards, and Steve can admit that night is the best one he’s had since being over here, if not because of the fancy feather pillows and marshmallow mattress but because Bucky was _back._ Bucky still loved him in this body as well. 

Bucky still loves him now, enough to kiss his cheek and brush their knuckles together while he steps away to shrug on his jacket. “You’re a sap, sweetheart.”

“And you’re the one who showed me how to be,” Steve shoots back. “Where are you off to? It’s almost time to go, isn’t it?”

Bucky nods and gives him another kiss, this time taking advantage of how Steve is bent over his bag to kiss him on the temple and then because he’s an _asshole-_ pinch him on the ass. He only smirks when Steve lets out an indignant sound and gives him a glare, already on his way to going out the door with his own duffle shouldered against his side. “That’s what I’m going to check on. Figured I better go see if the cars are here yet.” He glances at all that Steve is get to pack. “Holler at me if you need me to stall them.” 

“I’ll holler _something_ at you alright,” Steve grumbles under his breath, throwing Bucky another dirty look when he has the audacity to laugh. “You sure you got everything you need?”

Steve knows what answer is coming before the words even get out, Bucky throwing him a wink and an over the top smile, the kind that can dazzle every dame in Brooklyn but now only serves to get Steve weak (or as weak as a super soldier can get) in the knees. “I just need you.” He straightens up while Steve is still rolling his eyes. “And _you_ need to finish up before we all go off and have fun without you.” 

He wouldn’t do that and they both know it, but Steve still sighs and nods anyways. “Yes _sir.”_

Then Bucky’s grinning again, backing out of the tent. “ _That’s_ the type of fun I’m talking about.” Steve groans, and Bucky gives him a final smile. “You know where to find us. I’ll see you in a few.”

“Sure thing, Buck.” And then he’s gone, leaving Steve in the tent alone, continuing to collect the rest of his things. 

He’s almost done, anyways. All he has left to find are his toiletries and socks. Peggy and Howard have the suit to start on the modifications they’d met about this morning, so Steve won’t need any other clothing than what he usually wears and might want washed by the hotel staff. They aren’t cleaning out their entire tent considering they’ll be back to touch base eventually, so when Steve finds himself in search of extra socks after tucking what scant toiletries he has into the side of his bag- because even Captain America can’t really afford much more than soap and toothpaste- he still has a few places he has to check. 

Socks are somewhat of a precious commodity where they are. Trenchfoot isn’t a thing he thinks he can experience, though he likes to take extra care to not find out. But regulation socks aren’t exactly of the highest quality, and his have unfortunately been worn thin enough for there to be holes in the toes _and_ the heels (and even super soldier toes can get cold sometimes, as the SSR research can now attest to on record), hence the rummaging. He knows exactly where to look. 

Every tent he has, shared with Bucky or otherwise, always has a table meant to act as a makeshift desk in the corner. More often than not, it really ends up being used for playing cards, but that’s only what’s on the top. On the bottom…

The chair is already pulled out from where Bucky was sitting in it earlier, so Steve only has to step over and crouch to get at his USO duffel that he knows is always tucked underneath, telltale tacky red, white, and blue themed pattern printed on the outside of it same as the last time it had seen the light of day. 

There’s a bit of dust settled on top that’s smudged away when Steve opens it, but Steve knows that’s more a sign of their tent’s cleanliness than it is a sign that it’s been _that_ long. Captain America in tights and a cowl might be no more, but the old uniform, while Steve had initially hated it, was very well loved once Bucky came back around in the beginning. Yeah, he’d made sure they got some _good_ use out of it once Steve agreed to keep it. 

Steve sighs and smiles slightly at the memories, pulling what he thinks is the shorts out while he starts to dig through to the bottom in search of the socks he knows he used to keep in here to prevent the boots he’d had to wear with the outfit from pinching his feet enough to form blisters. That’d been part of the reason he was so goddamn relieved when they ended up letting him make the switch to more tactical shoes- that and the fact he’d never quite gotten the hang of the heels that had helped cause the blisters in the first place. He’s almost positive there’s at least one pair of thicker socks in here, but as always when searching for things inside bags, as soon as he needs them, they seem to have made their way to the bottom.

He sighs again, this time in annoyance. He doesn’t have time for this. He takes the bottom of the bag in hand, twists, and turns it upside down so everything inside goes tumbling to the floor. The _floor_ being the dried out patch of grass they’d gotten the tent up on weeks ago. A little dirt won’t hurt what’s already dusty, he reasons. 

He goes to fish through the heap of fabric, but his hand falters when he spots something that is definitely _not_ socks caught between the gauntlet of one of the gloves where it’s lying on the ground. 

Steve almost does a double take, and that’s after taking a moment to make sure he isn’t seeing things. Even then, he blinks hard and tilts his head to the side just in case, has to get closer, but it isn’t until he reaches his hand out and touches that he truly gets a grasp on what he’s looking at. 

What he’s looking at is... lipstick. A beat up brass tube with the logo half worn off, but without a doubt- that’s lipstick. For a second Steve sees but doesn’t believe. That’s before he touches it, though- illusions are one thing out here. Delusions are another, and he’s pretty damn sure he’s not having those yet, so this must be exactly what it looks like. 

_Lipstick._ His luck these past few days has been something else. 

Reasonably, he thinks he has an idea about where it came from considering the tube is the exact same brand all the showgirls used to use when they were on the road touring the States become coming overseas for the performance that Steve never came back from. It’s been a long time since then in terms of things that have happened over here. Steve’s not exactly sure of what happened to those women, but he sure hopes him inadvertently putting them out of work wasn’t too hard a hole for them to get out of. He hadn’t meant to become a hero so quickly. He’d just wanted to save those men, save _Bucky_. 

The lipstick must be left over from one of the girls. Steve spent almost five months touring with them, and they weren’t close in the conventional sense with how bad he’s always been with women, but they were close in a way. He knew all their names, and they knew him well enough to tease about the tights without him turning _too_ red, but it was more of an on the road out of loneliness relationship than anything. Still, considering how often they had to change using the same close quarters, there were definitely multiple occasions where that meant their things were kept close together, makeup and clothing easy to mix up with how their bags all looked the same. 

Steve had actually taken to sewing a tag with his name on it into the top of his- something that Bucky later teased about when he saw because _“pal, anyone who sees what’s inside is going to know it belongs to you”._ Steve didn’t have much of an answer to that besides _oh._ He guessed he was right. Steve just wasn’t and still isn’t used to thinking about himself as someone people _see,_ let alone recognize. 

Still, maybe it was a smart move, because this lipstick had to have found his way into his stuff somehow. Or maybe it’s just a miracle. Either way, he isn’t going to complain about stumbling upon something he’s been wishing after for weeks. To the point that he was almost willing to _steal_ for it- he likes to think this is his reward for showing restraint. 

He’s still sat there on his knees holding the tube and staring at it when the sound of someone laughing outside his tent snaps him out of the spell he’d been under and helpfully reminds him he has somewhere to be- and more importantly, socks to pack. He spots the pair that had pulled him to upend the bag in the first place tucked under part of the fabric of the star spangled shirt he used to wear while strutting around on the stage. 

Biting his lip the barest amount, Steve makes a split second decision. Instead of picking up the socks as he’d planned, he instead stuffs them along with everything else he’d strewn out back into the duffel- lipstick included- before picking it up and placing it onto the bed next to the other bag that after a few more moments is packed up pretty and ready to go right along with him. Steve shoulders both bags up, one on either side, and sweeps his eyes over their now nearly empty tent one last time before nodding to himself and heading out to where Bucky and the others must be waiting.

When Bucky gives him an odd look at the fact he has two bags rather than one, he just shrugs, not exactly keep on exposing his reasoning with so many people around. “Couldn’t fit all my stuff.”

“You bring your shield?” Bucky’s voice holds the same mother-hen tone he used to use on Becca back home before dates, and Steve huffs at it, shaking his head. 

“Howard has it. Said he needed to make sure it was as up to date as the suit.” He places his bags in the back of the car beside Bucky’s. “I’m sure you’ll keep us safe for the weekend,” he says, well aware Bucky’s bag almost definitely contains one of the guns he always seems to have on him over here.

True to form, Bucky doesn’t disagree, only climbs into the car next to Steve in the backseat to sit behind the soldier assigned to drive them into town. Soon enough, Peggy is popping up, apparently riding along with them. Her eyes flick to the empty shotgun it’s clear she’ll be taking, but she doesn’t comment on how clearly it could have been assumed she’d sit in the backseat next to Steve, although the tight press of her smile also makes it clear she’s thinking about it. 

Steve internally winces. He’s never sure what to do in these situations. Luckily, they’re nearing the time to leave, so he doesn’t have to stew in it for too long before the cars are moving and Peggy has something else on her mind. _Something else_ being the plans for where they’ll be lodged during their leave. 

She turns with a paper folded in hand and passes it to Steve sitting behind her. “Colonel Phillips is expecting all of you back by Tuesday afternoon. You’ll be put up at a hotel called The Blue Swallow.” She twists her mouth up wryly. “The hotel has a bar but there’s also a pub at the other end of the street if that sparks your interest. Remember what was requested about remaining uninebriated. Unfortunately we have no way of knowing what situations may somehow arise.”

Steve nods, swaying a bit with the momentum of how fast the car they’re in is moving. “I understand.”

Bucky sighs, but nods too. “Stay sober so the world doesn’t end. Roger that.” He nudges Steve’s knee with his own. “This guy doesn’t drink much anyways. Was noble like that even before Stark shot him up.”

Steve rubs a hand over his shoulder, suddenly shy. He wishes they were at the hotel. Hopefully they’ll get there soon, because the way Bucky is side eyeing him has him feeling things he’d rather Peggy not be privy to, as professional as she is (outside of the whole shooting incident, anyways). He decides to change the subject. 

“Will anyone else be joining us?” He might as well ask and check if there’ll be someone to run the risk of interrupting what time he can use to be with Bucky. 

Thankfully, Peggy shakes her head, pinned back hair pristine even in the wind where their car’s windows are rolled down. “It’ll just be you, the sergeant, and your team for now.”

Trying not to look too relieved at the affirmative, Steve nods, answer controlled even while inside he’s already laying out what he’d like to do with Bucky- and what he’d like Bucky to do to _him-_ once they get to the hotel. “It’ll be good to have some hot water for once, then.” 

That’s one thing he’d like them to share together if they can. He’s got a one track mind, but it’s more about Bucky himself than anything else, sex included. Which is saying something about how much he loves him considering how little they’ve gotten to have _that_ sort of time together ever since they were reunited. Really, Steve doesn’t mind too much. As long as they remain reunited in the first place. Still, he can admit the privacy has some more… promiscuous perks. 

Bucky snorts beside him. “That is if Dum-Dum and Dernier don’t get there and use it all first.”

Peggy turns back towards the front of the car now that she seems to have said her piece. “We’re almost there. After I make sure your provisions are all in place- you’ll be free to go to whatever you’d like for the weekend.”

Steve smiles soft and secretive, and now that now one is looking, nudges his knee up against Bucky’s in return. It pulls a similar smile from the brunette as well. 

It plays out into his voice when he speaks, never one able to let silence sit very well. “You know how much Captain America loves his freedom.” The way he takes his foot and presses it discreetly on top of Steve’s only proves to remind Steve of how much he loves _him_. They can’t get to this damn hotel fast enough. 

Peggy said they’ll be free to do whatever they’d like for the weekend. Thinking back to what he has tucked away in his bag, Steve wagers he can come up with a few things that he’d like to try. That’s for later, though. Valentine’s Day isn’t until tomorrow, which means they have an entire day to do whatever they please before Steve’s makeshift surprise gift will get to come into play. 

He’s pretty sure Bucky will be happy with it- he’s always had a less than secret affinity for Steve’s mouth anyways, and red _is_ Steve’s color according to all his teasing. 

Regardless, that will have to wait until Monday comes around. Tonight they can do whatever they want, and what Steve _wants_ is to be alone with Bucky, but the drive to town seems to be taking forever. Not only that, they’ll have to wait a while longer even after they get there. Peggy has to finalize their plans, they have to check into their individual rooms so it at least _looks_ like they aren’t only interested in each other, and then they’ll have to unpack, all before they can have that privacy Steve’s been praying for since the news they’d be put on leave had arrived.

They’re almost there, thank God. And Steve’s waiting this long, would have had to wait even longer if luck hadn’t for once been on their side- so with a sigh, he sinks back down into his seat and settles down for the rest of the ride. Sooner than later they’ll be there, and he’ll wait as long as he needs as long as it means he has Bucky by his side. 


	2. chapter two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Morning, sunshine.” Bucky’s voice is raspy, still deep with sleep and the telltale desire to drift back off. “How did you sleep? Better than on a bedroll?”
> 
> “Much.” Now that he's not in danger of accidentally waking him up, Steve wriggles around to turn over in his arms until they’re face to face. Their breath isn’t the freshest considering they’re just woken up, but he doesn’t hesitate to fall happily into the kiss Bucky lays on him anyways. 
> 
> It’s Valentine’s Day, after all. The day of love, and whatnot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome to chapter two after a week of waiting and me itching to post it. i hope you like it <3 steve and bucky truly deserve it all.

_Sooner_ versus later ends up being about another hour before they’re finally settled in the way Steve has been itching for. As he suspected, they each have their own rooms. His is right next door to Bucky’s, so sneaking over to it isn’t much of a hassle considering they’re housed side by side. 

He’s about to go leave for Bucky’s room himself when a knock on the door drummed out in a familiar rhythm tells him the other man has beat him to it. Sure enough, when he cracks open the door, there’s a familiar crooked grin greeting him from the other side. 

“Hey, handsome,” Bucky says, quiet enough for Steve not to worry about them getting caught. All they’re doing is talking, anyways, although Bucky’s next words hint at wanting a little something more. “How’s a guy like me gotta act to get you to invite him in?”

Steve rolls his eyes, but can’t keep back the smile that comes out right along after. He pulls the door open further and peers out to make sure there’s no one else present before tugging gently on Bucky’s sleeve as a signal for him to step inside. “All you had to do was ask, Buck. Think we’ve passed the invite each other in stage.” They’ve practically lived in each other’s pockets for most of their lives even before they were roommates. 

“My mama raised me to have manners,” Bucky hums. “Gotta be a proper gentleman to my guy, don’t I?” For all that he’s talking about manners and being gentle, the kiss he takes from Steve next is anything but, surprise of it having Steve letting out a soft noise even as Bucky’s stepping to turn him around and push until his back is proposed against the door they’d just shut behind them so he can slip his arms on either side and cage him in as if Steve isn’t caught up in the kiss enough already. 

Jesus, Steve’s missed this. It’s not like they haven’t kissed much since being reunited all those months ago. Hell, they were making out halfway to midnight as soon as last night, but stealing time in tents and between trips to the trenches doesn’t leave much time for Steve to feel able to melt into it like he is right now. They manage to get by most of the time, but like Steve said- he missed this. 

Bucky must have too, because as strong as the kiss starts out, soon enough he’s letting it soften, hands slipping from the door down to cup at Steve’s cheeks instead while Steve’s own hover over his shoulders. He’s almost afraid to touch him, like the giving into the temptation might make things turn out not to be real. 

Bucky’s body slotting so close up against his makes that hard to be afraid of for too long. The kiss turns lazy and sweet, but Bucky holds on just as tight to him. Steve might be heavier than him now, but that doesn’t stop him from feeling like Bucky’s holding him down anyways. He is, when it comes down to it. Steve’s safe in his arms, heart safe in his hands. That’ll hold Steve down more than muscle can any day. 

Truth be told, neither of them are using much muscle right now anyways, not with how Steve’s gone to putty in Bucky’s hands where he’s still pressing him up against the door. So much for being a gentlemen. They couldn’t even bother to take this to the bed?

Steve’s practically gasping by the time their mouths stop meeting, Bucky just as breathless but still somehow more composed, which is cause enough for Steve to groan and shove against his shoulder. “Buck,” he sighs, struggling to remember it is what he wants to say. He tries again. “ _Bucky.”_

Bucky’s mouth is shining even without the smile that it soaks up into. “ _Stevie.”_

Steve touches his cheek now too, stubble scratchy beneath his fingertips, then soft once he sinks them back to slide in Bucky’s hair. “Can’t believe we get the whole weekend,” he whispers. “‘Specially a weekend like this.”

Bucky kisses him this time on the tip of his nose, nudging his own up against it after when giving his answer. “Universe owed us a break, I’d say,” he says, voice rough from the kissing and maybe a little more, Steve would bet. He’s feeling about the same way. “This is a better one than I could have asked for.” Bucky’s joking a bit bitterly, trying to be positive, but it still shows in his voice.

They both know the real best break isn’t really here at some hotel, no matter how nice The Blue Swallow admittedly is. The best break would be going back to Brooklyn. Making it back _home._

Half of home is already here for them both being held in their hands, but Steve knows that doesn’t stop _him_ from wishing, so it probably doesn’t stop Bucky either. He initiates the second kiss this time, still letting Bucky lead, but starting it off soft and sweet enough for Bucky to look a little more settled by the time he pulls back. 

“I love you,” Steve says, quiet into the space between them. “I’m sorry we’re still over here for another holiday, Buck.” He knows they’d both already had a hard time handling it at Christmas, and he doesn’t doubt they’ll be able to deal with it now. Still, it kind of sucks. A lot. Especially because neither of them can really fix the problem themselves, no matter how hard they (or Steve’s propaganda originated persona) try. 

Bucky smiles a bit sadly, but the strokes of his thumb over Steve’s skin are gentle, tone when he speaks good natured. “You might be a bigshot now, but don’t go acting like this war is all your fault,” he scolds. “Not like you can do much more than you already are.” Then, leaning in and brushing over his hair with a light touch of his lips, “Besides, I don’t mind if we cant do something special as long as I get to spend the day with you.”

That’s Steve’s cue to perk back up, because this- this is a problem he _can_ fix. As _Steve_ rather than Cap, because he hopes Bucky won’t be accepting any such offers from anybody else. He fiddles his fingers on one hand with the fraying collar of Bucky’s fresh set of the day’s fatigues. “Well… I kinda _maybe_ managed to stir up something to make it sort of special.” 

Bucky’s eyes go interested in an instant, the rest of him shifting so that he’s close enough for Steve to go as red as the lipstick in his bag he’s hinting about having right now. Not that Bucky’s aware of that. 

He raises his eyebrows, lashes practically brushing his cheekbones when he looks down between them and then back up with a sly smile. “Kind of?” he presses. “ _Maybe?_ ” He draws the second word out in a way that’s clearly meant to poke fun at how shyly Steve had said it himself. 

Steve scowls, and smacks his shoulder at it. “It’s supposed to be a surprise.” At Bucky’s eyes going big as if to beg the answer out of him, he huffs. “I’m saving it for tomorrow, so don’t spend all of today trying to get me to talk.”

Bucky’s eyes start rolling instead at that, sigh more fond than frustrated when he tugs at Steve’s bangs before speaking. “I should have figured you would considering your main talent is stirring up _trouble,_ ” he tells him, patting his cheek a final time and kissing him over top of the touch before pushing up off the door so he can take his first real look around the room Steve had been given as his own. 

“Takes a troublemaker to know one,” Steve says under his breath, fixing his shirt where Bucky had rumpled it so he can straighten up and join him, legs only still slightly feeling like jelly from getting caught up in the kissing. They’re steady enough for him to go and stand next to Bucky at least, only taking a few seconds for him to get over to where the other man is standing by the wall opposite to the bed and looking out the window to the street down below. 

Bucky’s expression isn’t _unhappy_ exactly, but it’s a bit hard to read. 

Steve doesn’t know what to make of it considering how close they’d been only a moment ago. “What d’ya think of the view?” he asks, shifting so that his hand can slip right into Bucky’s where it’s hanging down by his side. Positioned like they are, it’s impossible for anyone outside to see them, especially with how high up the hotel had assigned their rooms, but he still makes sure to try and stay out of the frame anyways. It doesn’t do much for their actual safety, though it makes Steve _feel_ a little more secure, even if it’s foolish. “Better than yours or do you prefer your own?”

Bucky only hums and rubs his thumb over the back of Steve’s own the way he always does when their hands are intertwined like this. “Hell of a lot nicer than most places over here,” he says quietly. Then, looking at Steve with a half smile after a stretch of silence gone on a little too long, “Any room with you in it is the better option, sweetheart. Don’t go asking stupid questions.”

The teasing only gets him a glare from Steve’s end, but the look is followed with a laugh from Bucky’s, and before Steve knows it, the brunette is yanking the curtains shut with one hand and then he’s being pulled from the window to land in a pile on the bed with Bucky instead with the other, shoes still on and legs stretched out even while their lips are busy finding their way back together. 

The mattress is more comfortable than anything Steve’s been on in the last four months (Bucky’s lap not included, he’ll later tell him), and it’s not long before they’re both making their way fully up on it. Bucky tries to toe off his boots without separating his mouth from Steve’s neck, but it’s to no avail. So, after a few moments of fumbling with their feet, he sits up with a sigh and smile at the sound of loss the separation manages to pull from where Steve’s still pouting below. 

He’s already got his laces undone by the time Steve starts to sit up to do the same, but Bucky only shakes his head and uses a hand to push Steve back down to where he was lying beside him before. “I got it,” he says, chucking both of his shoes in the corner and doing the same once he has his socks peeled off as well. “You just lay there and look pretty. Your plans might start tomorrow, but _mine_ start right now.”

Steve almost protests- he can untie _his own damn shoes_ \- but something about the way Bucky’s squaring his shoulders tells him that this is about more than Bucky just being a teasing asshole. Taking care of Steve (of people, really) in whatever way he can, whatever way Steve will _let_ him, has always been how he’s shown his love, even more than all the sappy lines and pet names. Taking care of Steve while they’re here, where Steve can accept it so openly… That’s Bucky’s own version of the lipstick, Steve thinks. That’s his something special. Steve would be remiss not to let him have this, and it’s not as if he really minds him doing it anyways. 

With that thought in mind, he wiggles his toes where they’re still trapped in his boots and lays back to let him work. “Fine, but don’t go complaining to me about the smell.”

Bucky laughs and Steve watches idly as he unties his laces and lovingly removes each of his shoes and socks, slower than he had done with his own. “Believe me, after sharing a tent with you these past few months- I know exactly how much the serum still lets you sweat, pal. _Sweet_ heart is pretty generous.”

Steve groans and kicks against Bucky’s thigh with his feet now on the bed while the other man tosses his boots to the same corner his are already in. “I can always shower before I let you stay in my bed any longer if I stink _that_ much,” he says, but Bucky shakes his head and flops his way back down beside him after scooting his way up the mattress to prop against the pillows. Steve rolls over to stay facing his side. Like this, Steve’s head is at the right level to pull onto Bucky’s lap, hands curled in his hair and petting at him gently. Steve goes into the movement of it easily, eyes falling shut even as Bucky speaks. 

“Want you right here with me,” he says, one hand over the side of Steve’s neck while the other continues to card through blonde strands and scratch against his scalp. 

It’s an easy angle for Steve’s nose to find Buck’s wrist where it’s in front of his face, nudging at it before ducking down with a particularly good dig of Bucky’s fingers at the base of his skull to nuzzle at his navel instead. As much as the comments about not smelling good were just to tease, there is some truth considering they haven’t showered since last night, and even then they had done their fair share of rolling around before going to sleep in their tent. But Steve doesn’t particularly care. Bucky’s scent, even tinged with sweat and smoke and the gunpowder Steve has grown used to, reminds him of home. 

Besides, the bed is so comfortable, who can blame them for not moving? Steve would like to see _anyone_ who’s spent the last couple months kipping on the ground get off of a mattress like this so easy. They aren’t even under the covers, and it’s not yet noon, but Steve can already feel his eyes getting heavier with every pass of Bucky’s hand carding through his hair with the warm weight of the opposite on his neck grounding him down until his mind is drifting somewhere deep.

His words come out dazed when Bucky says something he doesn’t quite pick up on. He’s not sure how long it’s been. “Hm?”

Bucky sounds a little sleepy as well in his answer. “I said maybe we should get some shut eye before the guys come knocking on both our doors for dinner later.” Steve can hear him yawn, hand temporarily tightening around the side of his neck and thighs tensing up. “Nothing wrong with a nap.” He tugs on Steve’s hair halfheartedly. “Even for super soldiers.”

God knows they never get enough sleep when they’re out on the front. Steve’s grateful for the opportunity to catch up on some now, nodding without opening his eyes. “You need me to move?” he murmurs. 

“Should probably change out of those clothes,” Bucky murmurs back, but he doesn’t initiate the motion to until at least a minute later, whispering out an apology when he has to dislodge Steve’s head from his lap in order to do so. Steve doesn’t necessarily want to wake up enough to undress, but fortunately Bucky is willing to help out on that front too, taking care of half of it for him by unbuttoning his top and pants so that all he has to do is shrug out of them both. 

Soon enough, they’re both slipping under the covers in nothing but their skivvies and dogtags, Steve halfway back to drifting off to sleep but not willing to do so without first cuddling up to Bucky’s side. He tucks his head on Bucky’s chest, nose against his sternum, and hugs around his waist while Bucky does the same with a hand stroking down between his shoulder blades beneath the blankets. 

It’s the most comfortable he’s been since the night he and Bucky had together after he led all those men from Azzano into camp. He didn’t even realize he was this tired until now, and everything in him wants to take advantage of the opportunity to nap, but first-

“Should we set an alarm?” he asks drowsily. “Just in case?”

Bucky kisses the crown of his head and huffs out a low laugh. “We’re on leave, sweetheart. I think we can afford to sleep in.”

That’s a good point, but part of the red-white-and-blue shtick says that Steve is supposed to be responsible now. So, even as he’s burrowing closer to Bucky’s body, he sighs. “Still…”

“Take your little Cap nap,” Bucky teases, always an asshole about things even when he’s tired. “I’ll wake you up if there’s company.”

Steve digs his grip in a little at the pun, but doesn’t verbally complain. Instead, he snorts. “Says the one who woulda always been late to work if I wasn’t the one to wake him up.”

Bucky only hums, low sound of it rumbling through to where Steve’s ear is pressed against his chest. “I’ll take care of things this time. Promise.”

Steve’s brain goes fuzzy with something more than just sleep at the sincerity in Bucky’s tone, bare legs tangling with Bucky’s underneath the covers so that they’re even closer than before. “You always do,” he whispers. “Love you.”

Bucky’s voice speaking soft against his scalp is what finally lulls Steve to sleep, the last words he hears before drifting off making him feel safer than he has since Brooklyn. “Love you back, Stevie. Go ahead and get some rest.”

It’s the best bit of that Steve thinks he’s going to have had for a very long time. Pressed up against Bucky, safe and secure in the hidden space of their now shared hotel room- it’s better than anything he could ever ask for. 

-

They do end up being able to take that bath Steve had been dreaming about together after all. The rest of their Sunday is spent somewhere between sleeping, going down to the pub Peggy had mentioned with the Howlies, having dinner with them across the street, and crowding as close together as they can in the confine of either one of their rooms. They take the bath in Bucky’s because his room being on the end of the hall makes the space available to share that little bit bigger, and they definitely need it. 

They have trouble squeezing in the tub at the same time, but they manage it fine even if the bathroom floor is left sopping afterwards. Bucky washes both Steve's hair and back, even kisses his ankles and washes those too with Steve sitting at the other end of the tub and a heel on his shoulder. There’s some handjobs involved, nothing too fancy, just quick work under the water with the faucet left running to cover the sounds Steve can’t help but make with Bucky’s hands on him like _that._ Bucky teases him about it later, but it’s not like he was exactly silent himself. Steve got to wash his hair as well, then watched him soap up his chest while he did the same after. It was nice. Domestic in the way that’s difficult to achieve with their conditions usually as what they are. 

They’d decided to sleep in Steve’s room again considering the bed was already broken in (They hadn’t bothered making it after heading out for dinner- sue them. Steve’s tired of hospital corners. He’d had enough of those growing up already), then gone to sleep pressed up against each other once more.

That’s still the exact position Steve wakes up in this morning, Bucky spooned up against his back with a hand braced over his chest as if to check his heartbeat even while they’re both unconscious. Just like he had always done back in Brooklyn- despite Steve’s big new body and over half a year of them both getting used to him being in it, old habits still die hard. Some don’t die ar all, but Steve doesn’t really mind. Just means Bucky sees him, same as he always has. 

He’s not seeing him right now, but that would be because his eyes are still shut. As Steve said yesterday, _he_ was the one who used to always wake Bucky up. He doesn’t do that now, though. They don’t have anywhere to be. Steve’s plans don’t _have_ to take place until tonight, if need be- which means they have plenty of time to waste doing whatever they please. 

What he pleases to do right now is remain wrapped in Bucky’s arms, snug under blankets that for once aren’t scratchy, pulled up to Bucky’s chest with his breath puffing steady against the nape of his neck. It’s everything he’s been missing these past few months. He’s content to lay there as long as the world will let him, but pretty soon Bucky is stirring, shifting in a way that tells Steve he's rousing from sleep. That fact is only solidified when the other man lets out a yawn that’s followed by the feeling of his mouth fumbling a kiss right to the back of Steve’s neck. 

“Morning, sunshine.” Bucky’s voice is raspy, still deep with sleep and the telltale desire to drift back off. “How did you sleep? Better than on a bedroll?”

“Much.” Now that he's not in danger of accidentally waking him up, Steve wriggles around to turn over in his arms until they’re face to face. Their breath isn’t the freshest considering they’re just woken up, but he doesn’t hesitate to fall happily into the kiss Bucky lays on him anyways. 

It’s Valentine’s Day, after all. The day of love, and whatnot. 

He tells Bucky as much when they separate, smiling at how soft and sleepy he looks, hair still mussed up and shirt wrinkled to hell from the sheets. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Buck.”

Bucky’s still busy blinking the sleep out of his eyes, but he doesn’t hesitate to let out a smile that Steve feels against his lips when he leans forward to kiss him a second time. “Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart.” Then, hand slipping up under his shirt below the blankets to stroke at the bare skin of his waist, “So what’s this about that something special you mentioned yesterday?”

Steve snorts. Bucky Barnes has never been one to beat around the bush. “I told you it’s supposed to be a _surprise.”_

Bucky lets out an over the top sigh that makes Steve roll his eyes- and those aren’t the only things that are rolling, because a moment later Bucky is doing just that as well until his weight is on top of Steve holding him steady against the mattress.

Steve’s breath practically gets knocked out of him, knees spreading wide to accommodate Bucky into the space between his legs- and sure, he’s strong enough to shove Bucky off if he wants or needs to, but when it comes down to it, he _doesn’t_ want to, and what he needs… that’s something that’s very different from Bucky moving _away._

Luckily, he doesn’t do that. As if he can read Steve’s mind, he moves closer instead, right into Steve’s space so that their noses are close enough to brush together before their lips do once again as well. 

Cozy mornings aren’t exactly a frequent occasion that they get to enjoy, so Steve makes sure to soak up every second of it that he can. He knows that they’ll eventually need to get up, go brush their teeth and eat breakfast before they can really get around to going about their day, let alone get to the plans Steve has in store with the lipstick and letting Bucky have him with it on. But for now, all that’s in the back of his mind thanks to Bucky quite literally pressing on his front. 

He’s tilting their foreheads together at the same time he rubs a hand up the side of Steve’s thigh, stopping only when he has his fingers up under the fabric of Steve’s shorts to clutch at his hip. “I don’t even get a hint?” he says, lips lifting at the edges enough for the expression he’s wearing to be a smirk. 

Steve’s breath hitches as the feeling of Bucky’s other hand still up under his shirt, now making its way to his chest to rub over a nipple instead. Bucky’s not playing fair, but Steve should be used to that by now. Why should Bucky play fair when Steve’s given him such an easy way to cheat?

Still, Sarah Rogers didn’t raise a quitter, so it’s with every ounce of stubbornness that he has that Steve shakes his head. “How about we go have breakfast?” he asks breathlessly, making a soft sound when Bucky captures him into another kiss instead of giving him an answer. It’s a bit difficult to try again after that, but he manages to with a brief pause spent biting his lip at the way Bucky’s pinches at his chest. “You butter me up proper down there and when we get back you won’t _need_ to have a hint.”

Bucky’s coy expression dampens a moment while he glances at the clock, but it’s back in full force once he finds Steve’s face again. “It’s nearly noon, so I think we’d be bordering on more of a brunch situation,” he drawls, fingers digging into Steve’s hip as he talks. “But if that’s a proposition…”

Steve huffs and digs _his_ fingers into where he’s holding Bucky’s biceps. “You’re the one practically trying to seduce me first thing in the morning. So much for being a _gentleman._ ” He groans when Bucky flicks his nipple for it. “ _Bucky,_ come on.”

“Believe me, I’m trying to,” he mutters, huffing out a laugh at the unimpressed stare Steve gives him, even as his cheeks flush from the sordid implication. “Fine. I’ll accept. But!” he holds up his hand that was formerly up Steve’s underwear. “Only on the condition that you let me buy you a scone, if they have them.” He shrugs at Steve’s questioning look. “I don’t have a surprise of my own, so you’re gonna be stuck letting me do some of the little things today, if you can suffer me being sweet on you.”

Steve thinks back to yesterday and the thought he’d had about what Bucky taking care of him had really meant, how Steve letting him do so was essentially his version of the lipstick Steve still has stowed into the side pocket of his bag. He’s not exactly sure they’ll even _have_ scones at the hotel with all the food shortages going on, but even if they don’t, he’d be an asshole if he didn’t let Bucky at least try. 

Still, he has to save face a little, keep up his usual stubborn streak about not being coddled. So he nods, but only after letting out an exaggerated sigh. “Guess I could go for one of those,” he agrees. 

Bucky grins and pats his cheek before pulling back completely to climb off him and out of bed. “Growing boy like you does need his sweets,” he teases. “I’ll treat you right.”

Steve groans again as he climbs out after him. He’s definitely done his fair share of growing, but it’s not like he’s gotten much bigger since they’ve been back together. If anyone has done that, it’s been Bucky, considering how thin he had become by the time Steve traipsed in and broke them all out of Azzano. It had taken a lot of begging on Steve’s end to convince him to eat some of the extra portions that Steve was being provided because of his heightened metabolism, but he’d managed it in the end and gotten Bucky bulked back up best he could. Now, Bucky is definitely leaner, less soft, more scruffy. But Steve kind of likes it. He likes anything as long as it means Bucky is alive. 

Considering that his shirt hits Steve in the face about five seconds later when they both start to change into clean clothes, he’s alive and still an asshole to boot. Steve sighs and tosses both their tops to the side. Bucky is lucky he had the foresight to grab a change of clothes from his room last night, because the last thing they need would be some poor cleaning woman seeing him creeping down the hall half naked and in need of a shave. _Steve’s_ the only one who gets him like that now, thank you very much. 

Thankfully, there are no cleaning ladies in sight by the time Steve pokes his head out and steps his way into the hall to make sure the coast is clear for them to head downstairs to the hotel lounge where lunch will be served. Looks like Steve will have to settle for a sandwich rather than a scone, but a late brunch is better than none at all. 

Bucky’s smile is wide as they make their way down the stairs at least, Steve falling into step beside him. “I’m starving,” he says. “Don’t suppose I can spoil that surprise of yours by setting out with an empty stomach. You hungry?” He winks, and Steve wonders how he doesn’t trip while walking. “For food I mean.”

Steve snorts, giving him a sideways glance and scuffing his feet on the ground. “I could eat.”

“Mm,” Bucky manages one last press of his hand against the back pocket of the pants Steve’s got on. It’s risky, but Bucky’s used to breaking rules considering who he spends most nights sleeping next to. “So could I.”

“Food, you mean?” Steve raises his eyebrows at him.

Bucky removes his hand and gives him a sly smile. “Something else.” The ghost of the word _sweetheart_ hangs off the edge of his words, and were they alone Steve knows he’d be saying it. But as things are, they’re already halfway to the lounge, so he lets it be.

Steve shakes his head, half to chastise him and half to help the blush fade from his face. “You’re _awful_ ,” he says. Then, because he loves him (and doesn’t exactly _disagree_ with the statement just because it’s dirty), “Later.”

Bucky’s grin doesn’t dampen. He also seems to agree. “Later indeed.”

-

As much as Steve has half a mind to rush them right back up to his room when _later_ finally comes, he doesn’t end up doing so. Realistically, Bucky needs to brush his teeth and at least try and tame his hair with a comb- and Steve… well, he has some things to get ready, doesn’t he? Bucky’s due back over in a bit anyways, with instructions to walk right in using the key Steve had slipped into his hand before hurrying inside to start his preparations. 

He’s still in the bathroom doing just that, USO bag in one hand and heart feeling like it’s in the other as he stares into the mirror, still having a little difficulty recognizing himself as the man that he sees inside. The last time they had done anything like this, Steve had been small. Short. Skinny. A lot of other things the serum helped set right. Now, he’s not any of those things, and although he’s been with Bucky since getting big more than once, it still takes some getting used to, even after all these months. 

Christ, half the time he still feels like he’s getting used to the miracle of being able to be with Bucky in the first place. Some parts of him still have trouble believing Bucky wants him, this way or otherwise- _this_ was something that for a very long time, he’d never even dared hope to have for himself. He does have it, though. Hearing Bucky step into his room amidst the silence a second later is proof enough of that. 

“Hey, Steve,” he calls. “You in here somewhere?”

Steve swallows and has to take another second to himself before he’s quite ready enough to respond, not bothering to let go of his grip on the sink as he does so. “I’m in the bathroom,” he answers, voice only slightly unsteady. He hasn’t even really begun getting ready, hence his next words. “I- uh- you can get on the bed if you want. I’ll be another few minutes. Make yourself comfortable.”

The sound of his boots hitting the carpet tells Steve he’s started doing just that, no doubt lounging back on the mattress like he had this morning while he waits. “Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.” The conviction that holds is comforting to hear.

Steve closes his eyes, then feels cloth brush over them as he finally starts getting down to it and begins undressing like he probably should have started doing ten minutes ago while Bucky was still brushing his teeth. What he has to do is quick work, anyways. Stepping out of his pants after taking off both layers of his top, he reaches over next to unzip the front compartment of the USO bag sitting nearby on the floor where he’d dropped it, beginning to dig inside in search of what he needs. 

He had considered going with somewhat of the safe move and wearing the USO uniform in its entirety- _minus_ the cowl, because it’s not cute no matter what Bucky has tried to say while flapping at the wings stuck to the sides of the forehead- but that felt more like a _Fourth of July_ situation than anything else, and he doesn’t need Captain America or his country to encroach on his night- or now, afternoon- with his guy anyways. He’s not exactly going for the showgirl effect, either, so although the fabric takes up most of the space in the bag’s main compartment, Steve leaves it and goes to the secret side pouch inside where he knows the lipstick is still stored instead. 

One he’s taken it out, he also takes the opportunity to get a better look at it than he had been able to yesterday in the tent. The tube is a little worse for wear the way practically everything that comes out of an Army camp is, but the artist in Steve is still able to appreciate the ornateness of the flowers etched on the gold exterior of the tube, and when he actually gets around to opening it up, something other than just the artist is able to appreciate the color he finds inside even more. 

Victory Red, Howard had once called it. 

“ _Get it?”_ he’d said, shoving at Steve’s shoulder like they were far better friends than they were. “ _Because beauty is their duty.”_

The shade is supplied in every kit military women are given, which Steve supposes is nice if they have the means. _Makeup_ isn’t exactly what he would call a first priority, but here he is about to wear it, so he doesn’t have much room to make judgements. The jury’s still out on whether he’s judging himself or not. 

This isn’t the first time he’s held such a thing in his hand, let alone put it on his lips, actually. Like them or not, Bucky’s more… _promiscuous_ days back when they were nothing more than pals with their heads still up their asses meant that there were more than a few lost tubes lying around their shared apartment from girls who had come, gone, and eventually never gotten to come back. 

It had been a joke at first, Steve saying he would wear the stuff instead since his Ma brought him up not to be wasteful. But right along with taking care of him, Bucky’s main talent has also been knowing _exactly_ how to call his bluff. It’s not something they’ve done since Brooklyn, because fuck, when have they had the time or the materials since? But it is something Steve is looking forward to doing again right now if he can manage to actually put the product _on._

He’s not sure what’s suddenly got him so nervous. It’s not like Bucky has never seen him like this before and it was Steve’s idea in the first place to surprise him with it on. He wants to, wouldn’t be standing here if that _wasn’t_ the case, but still something holds him back. Something that he suspects has to do with just how long it’s been since Bucky saw him like this. Small and slender in lipstick is one thing. Bjg and strong is another. He hopes he’ll like it just as much. 

There’s not a reason Bucky has ever given him that should have Steve doubting like he so often does, but he thinks it’s more of a byproduct of just how important Bucky is to him than anything the man has ever actually done himself. He’s always loved him so much, always held his opinion in such a high regard, it’s at this point a natural worry to have. Steve’s always had so little in terms of things like health and happiness. Having something as big and beautiful as Bucky Barnes willingly in his bed, by his side? That’s something Steve won’t ever stop not wanting to risk losing. 

Steve’s still nervous, but his hands are only shaking slightly as he lifts the lipstick up to his mouth, eyes fixed on tracking the motion in the mirror. He’s wearing nothing but his underwear, which means the blush that spreads across his skin with the first swipe of lipstick against his mouth is visible down to his chest, color ironically enough complementing the shade on his lips perfectly. Those rosy Irish undertones really do make red his color. 

This is the first time he’s done this with his hands in their new size, but he supposes if he can shoot a gun and toss his shield with them, he can sure as hell manage to slap some makeup on his mouth as well. He has to force his jaw to unclench and lips to stay soft, but whatever things the serum changed, having an artist’s touch was not one of them. The stroke of it feels waxy, slightly sticky when he rubs his lips together to make sure he didn’t miss any spots, but it’s still a good bit more luxurious than what those girls left on Bucky’s dresser after all those dates that didn’t amount to much more than a memory once Bucky quit calling them around. 

_“Found something better_ ”, he had told Steve more than once, often with him curled up to his side. _“My fella now, aren’t you?”_

_“Always have been”_ was the answer Steve gave every time, because it’s true. They took a while to get there, but they did. And now they’re _here._ In a hotel in Europe with Bucky out on the bed waiting while Steve hides in the washroom to finish fixing up his face. 

He does that soon enough, touching up the edges and leaning in close to the glass to examine the effect before tucking the bottom back into the tube where it belongs. He’s not sure what to do with it after. Should he leave it behind on the counter? Take it with him to the bed? He tries to remember what they had done back at home and ends up keeping it as hand as he takes a deep breath, picks up his bag from the floor, and heads towards the door after taking a second for a self affirming nod with his reflection above the sink. 

He’s still pink cheeked in a way he hopes Bucky will find pretty, scarlet sitting shiny against his lips. Speaking of Bucky…

Steve almost opens the door but pauses and purses his lips instead, trying not to worry with the product between them. “Buck?”

Bucky’s answer comes muffled through the door. “Yeah, sunshine?”

Steve winces, knowing this is going to most likely sound stupid, but says it anyways. “Can you… can you, ah- close your eyes? Just for a second?” He shifts his bag up on his shoulder even though he knows he’s going to drop it as soon as he steps outside. “I want this to be a surprise still.”

He’s blushing beet red, probably about the same color as what he’s got on, but settles down a bit at the smile he can hear in Bucky’s voice. “Sure thing, Stevie.” Then, a second later, “They’re closed. You can come on out whenever you’re ready.” Still not sure he _is_ ready, Steve closes his eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath before finally doing just that. 

The air outside is cooler even with the windows shut thanks to how much bigger it is that where Steve had stashed himself for what must have been at least the last half hour, but that doesn’t stop Steve from feeling like he’s on fire the second he sees Bucky, stretched out and shirtless on the bed with both arms tucked up behind him. 

He apparently hadn’t taken his spare time to shave based off of the shadowed scruff on his face he’s still sporting, most likely waiting until it’s a time closer to their departure to do so. Razors aren’t exactly readily available all the time. Like Steve, he’s still got his shorts on, but unlike Steve, still has his pants on on top of them as well. Even from where he’s standing by the bathroom door, Steve can see his belt buckle shining in the light of the cracked open curtains.

It’s cause enough for him to swallow, bag making a muted thud when he drops it by the end of the bed after several slow steps forward. He can see Bucky smiling, can see where his stomach is shifting with every breath, can even see his toes curl as he must hear Steve come closer. But like this, eyes shut, _he_ can’t see Steve in return for once. Steve takes advantage of the opportunity to stare in a way he’d normally be too shy to outside of when he’s sketching. That’s something he hasn’t much done since enlisting, except for those few months where Bucky wasn’t around and the only thing to remind him of home was holding a pencil in his hand. 

Now, though… his home is on the bed in front of him, humming out a hello that helps Steve relax when he hears it. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” Bucky says, blindly holding out a hand and beckoning Steve closer although he has no clue just how far away he is. Bossy, even when he’s flying blind, it seems. At least in the bedroom. 

Steve heeds the request, setting the tube of lipstick carefully on the nightstand next to where Bucky’s taken his tags off. He does the same with his own, pooling the chain so it clinks against Bucky’s name engraved on the steel before abandoning both to turn back to Bucky and climb up next to him on the bed. 

Bucky’s reaching up to try and settle his hands on Steve’s waist as soon as he feels bare skin brush his own, and Steve does his best to help him by sitting down to straddle his waist. A few months ago back after first getting used to seeing him after the serum, Steve would have hesitated to do this thanks to how heavy he now is in comparison to what used to be, but as things are now, he doesn’t. Bucky’s done plenty to help break that habit, so it’s with a happy sigh that Steve sinks down and lowers his body on Bucky’s own. 

He sets his hands down to hover over Bucky’s wrists where they’re at his waist, pale fingers on forearms tanned from days of trekking outside with sleeves half rolled up. “Hey, Buck.”

Bucky, slipping both thumbs under the waistband of Steve’s shorts, can’t keep his questions to himself for long. Steve might be the impatient one, but _Bucky_ is the insistent. “You gonna let me open up my eyes and take a look at you?” He raises his brows up, squeezing his eyes in to exaggerate the motion of blinking even with both eyes still shut. “Kinda miss your ugly mug.”

Steve huffs. “Ugly?” 

He pretends to consider. “Well, I guess you’re pretty alright.”

Here’s to hoping the _pretty_ part is what he’ll pan to focus on- feeling himself already preemptively flush, Steve squeezes in slightly at his wrist, shifting while he tries to stir up some confidence in his stomach. Becoming Captain America might seem like it would be a solution to any self esteem problem, but Erskine did say the serum only amplified what was already inside, and Steve had already had plenty of problems in that realm before Stark helped shoot him up. 

He takes a deep breath and tries not to dig on his knees too tight against Bucky’s body while he sits up straighter. _Here goes nothing_ , he thinks. Clearing his throat to keep from getting any further caught up in his head, he speaks to Bucky, given go ahead gentle. “You can look.”

And Bucky does, blinking blue eyes open up at Steve that go blown so fast Steve wouldn’t even be sure they focused at all if not for the rest of Bucky’s reaction. Which is needless to say, a strong one. 

He’s getting hard just looking, at least from what Steve can feel thanks to where he’s seated. His words only confirm that. “Jesus _Christ_ , Stevie,” he gets out, voice hoarse. “Jesus fucking _Christ._ ”

Steve would bite his lip if not for what he’s got on it, but as things are he just ducks his head and looks down at him through his lashes, pleased as punch with how Bucky, usually so cool and charming, can’t even seem to form proper words. “You done blaspheming, Barnes?” he says shyly.

Bucky only shakes his head with an equally pleased smile, hands sliding up Steve’s sides until they’re cupping at his chest where his blush is burning down instead. “If this is what sends me to hell,” he murmurs, eyes still fixed on Steve’s red coated mouth, “Well then what a way to _go_.” 

He uses one hand to guide one of Steve’s still clutching at his wrist down so that he can press a soft kiss to his knuckles, and distantly Steve thinks to himself that he should have washed the taste of metal from the tube off his fingers before coming out to the bed, but Bucky doesn’t seem to mind. Not one bit. He still seems a bit stunned, to be honest, demeanor stuck in a place somewhere between aroused and amazed that’s so flattering Steve can feel his cock twitch in his underwear at just how hungrily Bucky is looking up at him from underneath. 

“Buck,” he breathes, wanting nothing more than to lean down and kiss him but also not wanting to move that far until he’s told, head already going hazy the way it always does when he’s with Bucky like this. “D’ya like it?”

Bucky brushes his fingers with another kiss, speaking right into his skin. “What’d I tell you about asking me stupid questions, sweetheart?” He looks up at him, eyes half lidded. “Got you in my lap looking like my own personal pinup come to life, and you ask me if I _like_ it?”

“Well do you?” Steve can’t help but prod even though he knows the answer, can’t _not_ with what’s nudging against his ass- but he’s always had a particular weakness for praise, needs to hear it before he can properly sink down the way he wants to. 

It’s something they figured out after the first few times they fucked, or ‘made love’ as Bucky insisted on calling it, the sap, because “ _I’ve fucked plenty of people in the past, but none of them have meant as much to me as you_ ”. Steve didn’t feel good enough for most of his life growing up, so the desire to be sweet talked isn’t exactly a surprise, nor is it new. 

Bucky always gives it to him no matter what anyways. He does so now, too, tone going soft with how much he must be able to see Steve wants to hear it. “I love it, Steve.” He reaches up until he has a hand on the back of his neck, both grounding him and guiding him down until he’s practically bent in half on his knees, nose knocking against Bucky’s when he nudges in for the first kiss they’ve shared since this morning. 

When their mouths meet, it’s a bit different than it had been before thanks to the lipstick. It’s not a barrier between them, but they’re both aware it’s there thanks to the slight slide of it smearing at the insistent way Bucky presses their mouths together. Their lips stick together slightly when they part, and when Steve pulls back completely, Bucky’s mouth is on it’s way to being just as red as his thanks to the remnants of the kiss they shared rubbing off against his lips. 

It’s a sight Steve didn’t expect to see ever again after Bucky shipped out- and seeing it now makes something soft swell up in his stomach (along with something _less_ soft swelling up in his shorts). 

Bucky reaches up a thumb to swipe at the corner of Steve's lips after a second of them staring at each other. “I messed your mouth up, honey,” he says, low and as lazy as the rest of him has gone with Steve sitting in his lap like this. “I’m awful sorry.” The expression he’s wearing betrays that he’s anything but, but Steve doesn’t say anything about that, too busy getting distracted by the divots of Bucky’s collarbones dipping out from above his chest with the motion. 

He wants suddenly to kiss those instead- mark them up with his mouth in the way the serum has stopped Bucky from being able to do to him so easily. He _wants,_ and when they’re like this, Bucky likes him to ask for permission, so for once in his life, he does so without protest. 

“Can I…” He hesitates, but Bucky halts that in its tracks. He likes to tease Steve like this, but not so that he’s afraid of asking for what he wants. 

“Go ahead, sweetheart,” he says gently. “Whatever it is, you know you’ll get it.” That’s true for the most part. Sometimes Bucky likes to deny him, but now doesn’t seem like one of those occasions. 

So Steve asks, second time surer. “Can I kiss you other places? Wanna see if I can…” He’s not sure how to word it, but Bucky seems to understand somehow regardless. 

He nods, and wiping his mouth off with the back of his hand shifts to move up so Steve can do the same in the opposite direction. “You wanna see if you can leave some prints on me? Mark me up so everyone will know you’re mine and I’m yours?” 

That’s a stretch of the truth and they both know it- no one can know they belong to each other, _with_ each other, which is a heartbreak Steve is long used to having. Here’s not the place to hash that out again though, so he lets the fantasy form instead, nodding even as he’s nuzzling his way up Bucky’s chest to kiss at his collarbones. 

Bucky hums and slots a hand into his hair to help keep him close as he presses the first print off a kiss into Bucky’s pec and pulls back to admire it. “Trying to sign your work on me, sweets?”

Steve smiles shyly, mouthing a second one against the muscle of the opposite side of his chest before answering. “Something like that.”

Bucky’s pulling on his hair a moment later, voice fond. “You might be an artist, but I think you’d do pretty well as the art too.” At Steve’s raised eyebrow and third spot of red placed lower onto his sternum, he smiles back at him. “Slap some lipstick on you and you’d outsell any pinup girl the service has got,” he says “I landed the prettiest boy from here to the Pacific.” He gestures to him, grin wide. “Got the proof right here.”

Steve flushes at all the flattery being laid on so thick, but can’t resist the temptation to lay a kiss next on the softness of Bucky’s belly, right next to his happy trail. All those extra rations he made him take must have paid off. “Bet you say that to all the boys in your bed,” he says, just to hear Bucky scoff at the suggestion. 

He does, with a knowing look that tells Steve he knows exactly what he’s after. “You’re my one and only, so don’t go getting any odd ideas otherwise.” He sighs as Steve’s next kiss to his hip where his pants have ridden low turns sucking, redness left behind from more than just the lipstick. “Would never step out on a looker like you, pretty baby.”

Steve preens a little at the name, and can’t help but clamber back up to give him another kiss on the lips, clumsy with arousal but avoiding pressing down on the prints left on Bucky’s between them. He can’t go ruining his hard work. “I love you.” He kisses him again. “A whole lot.”

Bucky brushes a kiss of own back over his lips, red left behind only a whisper because of how much is now littering his body. Steve might have to reapply, but that’s an afterthought for now thanks to how intently Bucky’s eyes are on him. 

“I love you very much,” he says. “Valentine’s Day or not.” Gripping at his waist with the hand not in his hair, he gives him another kiss. “Leave or not.” Another. “Lipstick or not.” He sighs out, soft and sappy with his words that come next. “You’re it for me, you know. Don’t care who knows it as long as you do.”

Steve presses closer, tucking his head against Bucky’s neck not caring about the smudge he knows his lips are most likely leaving behind. “You’re it for me too, Buck. Always have been.”

They sit like that for a long few moments marked by Steve almost not being able to believe how much, how _hard_ he feels for this man, but eventually, something else hard gets the better of them, and soon enough Steve finds himself being flipped to the opposite side of the bed so Bucky can hover over him the way Steve had been doing to his body only minutes before. 

Bucky, though- Bucky manages to make it look much more in control, grin cocky where he’s looking down at Steve spread out underneath him, lipstick half smeared across his face. Steve’s eyes dart to the shiny tube still sitting on the nightstand, and Bucky must track the movement because a moment later his eyes are flicking to find it as well. 

“Need me to help fix your face?” he teases. 

Steve, no matter how syrupy slow his brain is working right now, still has it in him to smack at Bucky’s shoulder. “Jerk. Just-“ The answer clogs up in his throat again. There’s an idea making its way to the front of his mind. “Have you ever thought about…” He has to hold himself still when Bucky smirks at him for squirming, giant muscles giving him away every time he so much as flexes. 

“Have I ever thought about what?” Bucky has to be feigning his confusion with how his eyes are glittering, bangs curling across his forehead so pretty that Steve distantly has the thought that Peggy’s curls might be perfect, but they’ll never be quite as close to perfect to Steve as this. 

It’s that first, thought, though, the one about Bucky being pretty, that’s sticking in all that syrupy sweetness Steve used to describe his mind. Bucky _is_ pretty. Best looking guy Steve has ever seen. Growing up he was everything. Older, stronger, more handsome, apparently good at _everything_ , so suave everyone wanted to be his friend- and yet for some reason he chose Steve. Now, he’s still everything, but for different reasons. He’s still older, still handsome, still good at everything (as Steve has found out, _everything_ includes more than just athletics), still suave- maybe no longer stronger, but that doesn’t matter right now when Steve is more than willing to let him pin him down. 

_Pretty_. The first time Bucky called him that, Steve had gone through two reactions- one of pleasure and one of protest, because hearing Bucky say that while looking at him like he was something special was amazing, but even then, he wasn’t a girl. Still isn’t. The only _pretty_ he’d ever heard put to use was meant to describe things that were soft, things that were dainty. Things like women, who didn’t want to give him the time of day. Colors, some of which he couldn’t see. Clothing that he wasn’t meant to wear. 

Steve wasn’t dainty, and he sure as hell didn’t feel like he was soft, but at his protesting, Bucky had only sighed and put an honest to god hand over his mouth to shut him up. 

_“Don’t have to be a dame to be pretty,”_ he’d said, exasperated as all hell even while holding Steve to his chest. _“You don’t think I’m pretty?”_

That had been a good point, because like Steve said- Bucky is everything to him, including pretty, which is all Steve can think about as he takes another glance at the tube of lipstick on the table and tries to figure out how to see if Bucky would want to put some on himself too. 

It’s not like he doesn’t already have enough smudged on him thanks to their activities, but Steve can’t help but wonder what he’d look like grinning at him that same way, cocky and charming, only in lipstick that gets messed up the same way he’s doing to Steve when they kiss. It’s a thought, one Steve hasn’t had before somehow. It’s always been _him_ putting it on. Not because of some misguided notion Bucky’s the man of the relationship. Steve wouldn’t be wearing it if that’s what it was. That’s just the way it’s always happened. 

But that doesn’t mean something new can’t, too. 

So, looking up at Bucky, legs spreading wide to wrap around his waist, “Have you ever thought about… you know… wearing it too?”

Some part of Steve is afraid Bucky will say no, shake his head and shove the idea off as stupid. _Steve_ may like having this little bit of private prettiness, but that doesn’t mean Bucky has to. Still, the look that crosses his face at the suggestion implies the idea is anything but a hardship, and the hand reaching out to snatch the lipstick up lets Steve know that’s a fact. 

Bucky’s brandishing the tube between them a moment later, balanced in his elbow while he holds it up to his face, cap still on while he pretends to consider. The shade name is stamped on the bottom, and Bucky’s smile only seems to get wider as he notices. “Victory red, huh?” he ponders, mockingly thoughtful. “Here’s to hoping.” Then, scrunching up one side of his face to give Steve a suggestive wink, “I’m already feeling pretty lucky about things, at least.”

Steve huffs, digging the heel of his hand into Bucky’s back where he’s clutching. “Don’t go jinxing us, Barnes,” he jokes, but there’s hope in his voice too. He wants them to make it out the other side just as bad. “Can’t put it on when you’re talking anyways.”

“I don’t know, sweetheart,” Bucky says slyly. “I’m pretty good at multitasking with my hands and my mouth,” he grinds down hard with his hips like he’s reminding Steve of the heat that’s resting between them, as if Steve wouldn’t remember with how strung out he’s feeling, Bucky’s belt buckle pressing cool into his already overheated skin. “Pretty good with the rest of my body too.”

Steve swallows, tongue coming out to lick at his lips where the smeared makeup has made them dry out. Ain’t that the truth- still, that doesn’t stop Steve from wanting what he’s after. He decides to ask again, just to get Bucky to quit teasing. “Buck,” he pleads, pressing him closer with drawn in legs that leave little space and most likely smeared red remains of pigment between them. “ _Please_.”

Bucky lets out a deep hum, hips dipping down to press his dick against Steve once more. “Alright, Stevie,” he says lowly, gentling him with another guided kiss that’s cut off almost as quickly as it had come. “I’ll put some on if you really want, but we both know you’re the real looker when it comes to those pretty lips of yours, sweetheart.” He uses the hand not currently holding the lipstick to thumb at Steve’s bottom lip, pressing the tip of it inside until he’s got it up against Steve’s teeth, surrounded by the slick heat of it so that when he pulls out and touches Steve’s lip again he leaves it shining and smeared with spit wet like the gloss Steve’s seen advertised through the windows in towns where the women are more daring. He’s not a woman, and he isn’t daring enough (in this endeavor at least) for that either, but he has more important things to focus on right now. Like Bucky finally popping the cap off the lipstick capsule and bringing it up to his mouth, all with eyes locked intently with Steve’s. 

Since he doesn’t have a mirror and is more well versed in messing _up_ lipstick on other people than putting it on himself, his ministrations leave a few marks outside the bounds of where the product maybe should be, but who the hell is Steve to care about what _should be_ when everyone always says people like them _shouldn’t_ in the first place? It’s not long before Bucky has a ring of red placed imperfectly over top his lips- lips that already are mesmerizing Steve to begin with because they’re _Bucky’s_ and have had their way with him places on more than a few parts of his body. 

Like this, it’s no wonder he feels like he can’t breathe looking at him, and that’s even before Bucky leans down, lipstick and all, and captures him into a kiss that has him making a noise that’s much too high for his usual range and much too _loud_ for the hotel that he’s struggling to remember they’re in. He’s a bit busy focusing on something else he wants in _him_ as well. 

That seems like it’s going to have to wait, because before Steve even has time to suggest otherwise, Bucky’s scooching down to get on his belly between Steve’s spread legs and taking a page of of Steve’s book of his own to press a kiss and resulting red print right to the smooth center of his chest below his clavicles before Steve’s blush can beat him to it. 

The funny thing about the serum is it left Steve hairless most places where Bucky isn’t, which is kind of a _cheat_ if you ask Steve at a moment his brain is properly working, so the mark stands out stark against his fair skin without anything else to distract from how it complements the flush currently climbing its way to what feels like the very base of his stomach where all the need for Bucky to _do something_ besides just tease is knotted inside. 

He’s more methodical about leaving marks than Steve had been, maybe because Steve knows he misses being actually able to do that in the first place. The serum hasn’t made it so that his skin can’t hold any marks at all. He’s had them beaten into him black and blue after days in battle to test that theory- but it’s made them harder to hold. Used to be, Steve’s skin was as easy to bruise as a summer peach, which is something Bucky only liked to see _outside_ of Steve getting into fights- he wanted to see his _own_ marks on Steve’s body, and only his own. Now he has a hard time seeing them at all. 

It’s a loss the lipstick seems to come in handy for balancing out, because Bucky’s lips are brushing a line of soft kisses _everywhere_ except where Steve wants it most. His chest, his stomach, neck, even his shoulders and the insides of each forearm made easily accessible by his hands fitting their way into Bucky’s hair. Not gripping or guiding, just holding gently as he can while he lets Bucky take the lead to love in the lipstick as lazily as he wants, even as he can feel his cock leaking in his shorts wishing Bucky would love on him down there as well. 

Words fail him when he finally gets around to asking, and the sight of Bucky grinning up at him from between his legs, mouth rubbed raw of the lipstick with all that he’s left behind only makes it even harder. _It_ being speaking, among… other things. He tries to speak again, but what ends up coming out is a breath “ _ah_ ” sound that has Bucky laughing against his skin as he licks over the place where he’d just nipped his teeth and hums at Steve’s responding frustrated sigh. 

“Having problems up there, Stevie?” he asks lightly, holding down one of Steve’s thighs when he tries to lift it up enough to kick at his back from behind. “Or is there one down _here_ you’re wanting me to take care of?” He pats his other hand fondly over the bulge in Steve’s underwear, tube of lipstick long discarded somewhere to the side and most likely off the edge of the bed where it’ll have fallen down to god knows where on the floor. 

Steve’s focus isn’t exactly sticking on that train of thought at the moment. They’ll worry about it, and the fact they’re inevitably going to have to worry about the lipstick staining the hotel linen- later. 

For now he looks down at Bucky with the biggest eyes he can manage and tries to shimmy out of his shorts best he can with Bucky still spreading his legs. Bucky wanted a hint earlier. Hopefully he can take one now. “Buck- you gotta stop teasing,” he begs, voice going deeper with despair once Bucky doesn’t let him budge. “Said- said this morning you were gonna treat me right. And-“ When Bucky bats his hand away once he tries his own luck at brushing over his bulge, he lets out an honest to god _whine_ that he prays their neighbors won’t chalk up to Captain America being what they’d amount to a whore in the next room over. “God damnit, Buck,” he breathes, feeling like he’s burning up all over at the refusal and reprimand all in one go. “I’ve been good- Please. Bucky, lemme-“

“No,” Bucky says firmly, and Steve, if he wasn’t a better man, would pitch a _fit_ over it if not for what comes out next- “You let _me_.”

_Oh_. Steve practically goes limp at that, only shifting his hips up to help Bucky strip him when he feels him tap against the thigh he had just been pinning down and otherwise remaining still- letting him have his way like had just been ordered. His mind feels fuzzy with the feeling of it, but he’s got enough focus left in him to keep his eyes wide open when Bucky leans back and sheds himself of his own pants and underwear, finally letting Steve take a look at what lies underneath. 

The curtains are only cracked open slightly, enough for the sun to shine through in certain spots around the room- but even if they weren’t, Steve’s mouth watering tells him he still would have zeroed in on Bucky’s cock immediately. They haven’t seen each other outside the shadows and shitty lamplight since sometime last year- Steve _missed_ this. 

Even with Bucky right in front of him, he _misses_ it. He misses being able to sketch Bucky laying in their bed bare after they’ve been together or he’s come off a particularly rough night boxing, curled up in the comfort of their own home. He misses being able to be together without having to worry about using up all the condoms in their prophylactic kits or settling for doing it intercrural. He missed being held, being able to hold him without worrying who might be around to see, who might be around to hear when Bucky says he loves him. He even misses the silly stuff, like putting on lipstick or laughing when Bucky gets distracted when he’s in him trying to remember if they left the lights on in the kitchen. 

But for all that he misses, what matters most is that Bucky’s with him, because when they were all those miles apart, _Bucky_ is what Steve missed most. The thought of that has a heavy weight feeling like it’s settled on his chest- and a moment later that weight becomes literal when Bucky does just that, hand around himself hard as Steve’s ever seen him but looking down with such a contrastingly soft expression that Steve almost wants to cry. 

Bucky shushes him, apparently able to see everything Steve is feeling inside written across his face. “Hey, Stevie,” he whispers. “C’mon, don’t start the waterworks.” He smiles, and his eyes look suspiciously shiny as well. “Can’t have you suck me off if we’re both sobbing, can I?”

Steve laughs wetly and shakes his head, scrubbing over his eyes with a hand that Bucky halts from returning to where it had been before in order to tangle their fingers and hold it in his own. “Guess not.” His own words come out hushed. 

Bucky uses his free hand to wipe the remaining lipstick off his mouth with a thumb that he brings down to touch against Steve’s own, red against red like an odd rendition of the kisses they’d shared before. He doesn’t remove it after, apparently wanting to keep Steve quiet while he gets what he has to say off his chest. 

“Color’s a dead ringer for those little red boots they used to have you prancing around in,” he murmurs, eyes crinkling up when Steve scrunches his own up at the use of the word _prancing_. 

He doesn’t have the heart to tell Bucky that according to Howard, the color had been made to be an exact match for them and all the other red USO materials anyways. Bucky doesn’t seem like he’d appreciate the fun fact right now, too busy holding both their hands tight against his thigh and doing some more talking- which is a feat considering his dick is close enough to Steve’s face for Steve to see it twitch when he licks at the tip of Bucky’s thumb on the hand still holding his face. 

Bucky lets out a low noise, but nothing more past what he murmurs out to him next. “Can see you’re sick of me teasing, sweetheart, but I just gotta tell you-“ he smiles down again, soft and a little bit bittersweet. “Know we both hate having to spent holidays over here. But if it means I get to have you… here is the happiest place I could hope to be.” He leans down best he can, neck having to bend at an awkward angle to accomplish his mission, but manages to press a kiss and a promise up against Steve’s lips. “If I’ve got to be here, I’m glad it’s with you,” he whispers.

Steve’s eyes do end up watering a bit of that, the both of them well aware that’s almost exactly what Bucky had said the night they first managed to come back together. Then, it had been different, about _him_ being here instead of the other way around. _If you’re here, I’m glad it’s with me_ , because Bucky had never wanted either of them to experience this in the first place. 

It’s been months since then, and so much has happened, but this hasn’t. At their core, they haven’t. He blinks up at Bucky and tries to get across just how much he loves him best he can with just a look, and Bucky sees him because he always has. Always does. 

He dips his thumb to hook in the corner of Steve’s mouth like he’s trying to preview where the rest of him will be a moment, making a noise right along with Steve’s moan once he presses the roof of his mouth with it. “So goddamn pretty,” he sighs, shifting enough for the tip of him to touch against Steve’s chin before he takes it back in hand and guides it up back to where Steve’s mouth is now dropped down wide and waiting. “Don’t even need the damn lipstick with how pink your lips are-” he presses forward, far enough for Steve to taste him on his tongue but nothing more. “How pink you get all over soon as I give you a bit of praise, bit of sweet talk.”

Steve makes a noise of obligatory disagreement, but it’s effect is put off by it turning into a moan once Bucky’s dick slips fully into his mouth. 

Bucky chuckles, breathy and broken off by a moan of his own at the feeling of Steve swallowing down around him, hand digging into Bucky’s grip on one side and the girth of his thigh on another. “ _Fuck,_ that feels good, honey.”

He fits the hand formerly on his face into his hair instead, pulling on blonde strands to keep him from choking as he hits the back of his throat for the first time. Steve’s eyes are watering from more than just emotion now, but Bucky doesn’t notice this time with how his own have fallen briefly closed. 

“You’re so good for me,” he says, eyes still shut like he doesn’t need to know what he’s seeing for what he’s saying to be true. “My good boy.” Steve makes a sound underneath him, words working their way to warm through him, and Bucky chuckles again, making a correction. “My _best_ boy.”

_Jesus_. That- that’s just- That’s a lot for Steve to hear, especially in the headspace that he’s in right now, happy and held down and halfway to floating off even through his cock is hard as nails behind Bucky’s back and hasn’t had a lick of attention or even a hand on it to help him since Bucky got back on top. 

He whines around Bucky in his mouth, well aware the other man won’t want to go off just yet when he has the luxury of doing a lot more. Sure enough, after several long moments and a low moan, he’s no longer moving, just sitting heavy on both Steve’s chest- _tits_ , as he so fondly calls them- and tongue. 

He exhales hard, squeezing their hands together and using the other to brush Steve’s backs back out of his face where he’d messed them up into falling. Come to think of it, that’s what he’s been doing most of the night. No doubt all the lipstick is gone off Steve’s mouth after how good of a use Bucky's just gotten out of it, but he also has no doubt Bucky will somehow figure out another way to mess him up more.

Case and point both made when he clears his throat a moment later. “Know your whole deal is red white and blue,” he says, eyes so lively Steve grows suspicious. “And god knows I could supply that third color for you and your pretty face, but those big blue eyes and red lips of yours aside- you bring any slick? I’ve got some in my room but-“ he gestures down to himself, skin still covered with crimson coated kisses. “Don’t think getting up and going that far to fetch it is the best idea right now.”

Steve’s far gone enough for his stomach to turn at the very thought of Bucky leaving him like this- he knows he _wouldn’t,_ but as it is-

“It’s in the side pouch of my USO bag,” he says, having half a mind to get up and get it himself until Bucky gives him an exasperated look that tells him he is going exactly nowhere. Steve is supposed to be letting him take care of him, he remembers. He huffs and rolls his eyes, collapsing back against the pillows where Bucky put him. “You know which pocket I mean.”

He does. They’d taken to storing anything they didn’t want found in there after constantly shuffling around made keeping secrets harder, so it’s without hesitation that he climbs off Steve with a final kiss to his cheek and goes to get the Vaseline they keep hidden from the bag that Steve had earlier deposited at the end of the bed. Lipstick wasn’t exactly the only thing in there that he knew they’d need, hence why be brought it in the first place. 

Bucky ends up lifting the bag up on the bed for better light to go looking, which means Steve can see the exact expression on his face that forms after he sees the sewn-in tag on top that he’s been making fun of since day one. 

Steve groans, knowing what ribbing is inevitably going to come, but trying to stave it off in vain anyways. “Shut it, Barnes. I’m your Valentine. You’re supposed to be _nice._ ”

“I’m very nice,” Bucky insists, digging inside the bag with a smile so big Steve _knows_ he’s remembering all the jokes he’d made about it when he first saw it- he might have made fun of Steve for sewing it in, but he didn’t make much fun when Steve had to do the same to fix the holes in his his henley, did he? Serves him right. Steve being a mama’s boy growing up came in handy- just because _he_ never bothered to learn how to patch up his own clothes. “And anyways, I was just gonna say it’s cute.”

Steve glares, but catches the Vaseline when Bucky tosses it over and puts the bag back down on the floor so he can get back to where he was as well. “Jerk.”

“I didn’t make a single joke.” His eyes are wide and intentionally made to look innocent, which Steve knows is bullshit based off the fact he’s sitting next to him with his back against the headboard and pulling his legs apart about five seconds later, one thigh pushed to the side with the other tucked under his own to keep Steve spread open wide enough to get at from the side. 

Steve has to catch his breath, but manages to speak with his head buried in Bucky’s shoulder where he’s still slouched down low, cock pushed up against his belly with how bent up Bucky has him sitting. “Well, you were gonna.”

Bucky presses a kiss to his hair. “That I might be guilty of.”

“Knew it.” Steve inhales sharply as Bucky brushes the blunt edge of a knuckle against his perineum. “Buck…”

“What, Stevie?” Bucky repeats the motion, this time with the barest touch against his tip, smearing sticky against the skin of his stomach like the lipstick had done red right above it. “Need something?”

Steve nods, lolled and lazy into Bucky’s neck. He shoves the Vaseline towards him, tossing it between his thighs instead of his own. “Need _you_ to get on with it ‘fore we have to go out to dinner,” he grumbles, groaning when Bucky finally gives him one of the strokes he’s been aching for since they started and reaching over with a clumsy hand over their stacked thighs to the the same with Bucky’s cock, standing up proud between the confines of his legs. 

It’s slow. Sweet. But he still wants- _needs_ more. And he might be shy about asking for it, but luckily Bucky’s never been shy about giving, having always been generous by nature. 

Steve’s eyes are half lidded, but he still has a clear view of Bucky unscrewing the cap to their slick and setting the bottom on his thigh so that it’s easy work to dip both his index and middle fingers in, rubbing them together with his thumb to heat up the substance enough to reach down and rub next over Steve’s hole before dipping a first finger inside. 

Steve sighs, grip slipping momentarily tighter around where he’s still got it between Bucky’s thighs. There’s no sting yet, not when he’s only put in a single finger, but the promise of fullness and second finger that follows is enough to have him breathing out heavy into the prickly skin against Bucky’s jawline, leg not being held down jerking out at the first nudge of Bucky’s fingertips brushing up against his sweet spot. 

“Fuck,” he breathes out, needing to take a moment to still his hand on Bucky’s cock as the brunette’s third finger tucks it’s way inside him to help stretch him out for what they both know is coming next. “ _Bucky.”_

Bucky’s lips are against his temple, bent down slightly to get the best angle of entering into Steve’s body with him sat up on the bed beside him the way he is. It’s not an angle they use often, but it’s one that’s close and intimate in a way some others aren’t, leaving room for Steve to cuddle against his side and get a good look at Bucky’s fingers moving to fuck inside him at the same time. Like this, Bucky’s got one arm around his back and the other working between his legs to loosen him up. 

It’s quick work doing so, at least in comparison to all the other teasing Bucky’d been doing with the lipstick before- by the time Bucky has four fingers pressed up firm against his prostate, Steve’s on his way to being wrecked without Bucky even being inside him, but once he does it’s on a different level completely. 

Bucky gets Steve's head off his shoulder with a quick murmur of “lift up” let out soft into his hair, kissing him quick on the lips once he does so and pushing his fingers in a final time to check that he’s ready. He checks in verbally as well regardless. “You good to go or do you want a condom?”

Steve smiles, giving him a thumbs up that stretches above his head once Bucky snorts and pushes him to lay back down against the pillows, flat on his back. “‘M good,” he sighs. “And no. Might as well not waste one when we can spare the cleanup.”

“You’re pretty gone with it already, aren’t you?” Bucky notes, nudging his fingers back into the Vaseline so he can slick himself up before screwing the cap back on and tossing it to the side like he’d done with the lipstick before. “Usually you’d be giving me a lot more lip back.”

Steve makes a face, though he knows it’s true. But it’s been a while since they’ve had the room to really fool around like this, and he’s been awful stressed lately with all sorts of things. Peggy, Colonel Phillips, missions, missing home- it’s nice to take a break, get his mind off of things. Taking control may be how Bucky accomplishes that for himself, but Steve’s somewhat the opposite. And that’s okay, although that’s something that took him a long time to accept once he realized just how much he liked it. They work together, complete each other, even in this aspect. It’s what makes them such a good team, he thinks. 

Sergeant Barnes may be Captain America’s subordinate, but if Steve Rogers wants to submit a little to Bucky in the bedroom- that’s alright too. 

He wants that a lot right now, hence his slight nod of acknowledgement to Bucky’s observation. “I’ll be fine if you get a move on, Barnes,” he says, trying to muster up some of that mouthiness Bucky had noted was missing. “Know we’ve got all day, but I kinda want your dick in me sooner rather than later.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow, but braces himself on his knees, back once again between Steve’s legs, this time looking like he’s finally finished teasing. 

Or maybe not. 

His smile as he presses closer is crooked enough for Steve to grow cautious, even once the head of his cock catches on his hole like he’s about to push inside. Steve’s hopeful, until it happens again. And again. And again, until-

“Bucky!” he complains, nails digging into the skin over his shoulder blades when Steve circles his arms around his neck. “ _Quit it.”_

Bucky’s expression is far too amused at his own antics. “I’m not ever gonna quit you, sweetheart,” he says, voice a sugar sweet coo that makes Steve’s nose scrunch up at the same time his stomach flips. Bucky grins and comes down to kiss his cheek. “Look at that. Red even without the lipstick.”

“You’re a jerk.” Steve flushes even further at the line and tries his best to glare, but that gives way to a gasp when Bucky takes the opportunity to spring his own surprise by sliding himself inside like he’s been dancing around doing for the last few minutes. 

“Yeah, there’s that lip I was talking about,” Bucky murmurs, moving the barest about forward to push further in, apparently drawing it out before he goes any deeper. “Shoulda gone for something more fire engine red with a temper like yours.” He uses the hand of the arm braced by Steve’s head to brush over his hair, bangs now laying back off his forehead so Bucky can kiss it even while he’s still busy bottoming out inside. “Spitfire like you being so sweet for me sure is something special.”

Everything they share is special, but Steve doesn’t bother saying that because Bucky already knows. What he _does_ bother saying is a little less romantic, but really just as heartfelt- “I hate you.” Then, more tentatively, because he’s still not that great at asking for what he needs, “Can you please fuck me now?”

Bucky hums, and then Steve’s breath hitches, because he’s finally doing just that- slow, at first, but soon enough he’s picked up enough pace for Steve’s heart not to be the only thing that’s pounding. 

It’s been a while since they’re done it bare, so the sensation of that is enough to have Steve riding a sensitive edge that only gets even sharper as Bucky’s rhythm sets into place, grip digging in to Bucky’s shoulders as he goes through the necessary steps of getting used to the girth and stretch of it as usual. He doesn’t realize how loud he’s groaning until Bucky slaps a hand over his mouth, just like he’d had to do the first time he told him he was pretty- only this time it’s not to cut off sounds of protest, but of pleasure. 

They’ve come a long way since then. Halfway across Europe spending Valentine’s Day in a hotel ten times too fancy for what they’d be able to afford back home- if Steve wasn’t half fucked out of his mind right now, he’s probably try and wax something poetic about it in his mind, but as things are, the only waxing he’s thinking about right now is the remnants of that texture thanks to the lipstick that presses between their lips as Bucky leans down to kiss him.

He’s breathless where Steve is panting, briefly balancing on one arm for a moment in order to bring the other up and drag Steve’s down with it so that their hands are held tightly together over his head while Bucky has his way with him below. “I love you,” he says, low like the secret that that little statement has always had to be. “I love you.” Still, somehow, despite it only being three words- it feels a lot larger, at least to Steve. 

Large enough to choke him up when he says it back. “I love you,” he gets out, groan going guttural when Bucky’s belly bumps the head of his cock bobbing up between them, marks left on each other held close there as well. “Love you back, Buck.” He doesn’t have any other words right now than those, but that’s alright, because Bucky understands him. 

He moves in harder, faster, and by the time he’s fitting his hand down to finally work at Steve cock, Steve’s already ready to shoot off. It’s only with Bucky’s permission, a murmured out “go on, sweetheart” that he finally does. 

It’s a miracle the lipstick marks on their bodies have lasted this long with how much they’re both sweating (they’re going to need to shower before dinner after this, most likely), but Steve’s come streaking up both their stomach puts an end to that, covering them up with a far more personal signature than what Bucky had teased him for wanting to put on him earlier. 

And Bucky- once he comes, it’s with a deep moan against Steve’s mouth, buried so deep inside him Steve would say he sees stars if he didn’t know what white stripes and color scene strand of teasing it would bring. It doesn’t get much more personal than that, and as they both collapse sated against the bed after their orgasms run through them, he can feel Bucky so full up inside him even after he pulls out that he has to pause Bucky’s quiet attempts to clean them up to wrap him in a hug that hides his face directly on his chest. Over his heart. 

Bucky is hugging him back within a second, shushing sounds Steve isn’t even making. “Hey,” he says softly. “ _Hey,_ Stevie, I’m here. I’m here.”

“I know,” Steve whispers, and if his voice sounds wet, it’s because his eyes are too. He’s not sure what’s bringing this on. Maybe the setting, the fact his mind is still somewhere halfway up in the air, the sudden emptiness he’s feels at the same time his heart is swelling up too full. But no matter what it is, he knows it’s here just as much as Bucky is. 

Bucky, who is kissing his hair where it never lays flat and fitting Steve close against his chest without complaint despite the fact Steve’s definitely leaking come against sheets that they were supposed to sleep in later. Looks like the other bed will be getting some use. “Not going anywhere. Not without you.” Bucky holds him tighter, and Steve takes that as an opportunity to let himself relax, familiar words washing over him.

“Know that too,” he murmurs. 

“Yeah?” Bucky sounds endeared. “What else do you know then, huh, boy wonder?”

Steve sniffs, then snorts at Bucky’s obvious attempt to lighten the inexplicably weighty mood. “Know a lot of things.”

“Like?”

He pauses and pretends to think, but really takes the moment to steady his breathing, still buried against Bucky’s chest and trying to match the rise of fall of it with his own. “Like you’re a jerk.”

Bucky chuckles and tugs on his cowlick. “And?”

Steve takes another breath. “And you like me in lipstick way more than you’ll admit.”

He hums, but doesn’t deny it. What they just did is proof enough for some part of that to be true. “What else?”

This time Steve really does have to think, brain still trying to put itself together. “That you really like taking care of me,” he eventually settles on. Then, after a second of additional thought, “Taking care of people, but especially me.” He presses his nose into his neck. “Think I gave you a complex all the times I wouldn’t let you coddle me.”

Bucky laughs, letting Steve go just a little only so he can shift them to a more comfortable position against the pillows. “The complex came first. You came second.” He yawns, words deep with it once he goes on. “Besides, is it really a complex if I’m conscious of it?”

Steve shrugs best he can with his arms still around Bucky’s body. “Those weren’t the kind of doctors I went to growing up. Your guess is as good as mine.”

“Then I _guess_ it doesn’t matter, because I’m not ever gonna stop taking care of my best guy.” After a few long moments of settled down silence, Bucky’s hand in his hair is suddenly guiding him up so their eyes can meet, gaze somehow gentle and intense simultaneously. “You forgot one more thing you should know.”

“Yeah?” Steve says softly, not sure which one he means. “What’s that?”

Bucky sealing their lips together helps predict the answer even before he gives it aloud. “That I love you.” He kisses him again, words against his lips in a whisper. “You should always know that. No matter what.” Another kiss. “No matter where.” Another. “No matter _why_.”

Bucky said earlier that he’d never quit on him. Steve flashes back to what his mother used to say to him, what she’d said that first time he told her he wanted to be a soldier. _You got no quit in you._ If Bucky won’t quit on him and Steve doesn’t have quit _in_ him, Steve supposes that they’re stuck with each other for life. 

Looking at Bucky and all they’ve done today, Steve thinks he’s okay with that. Because he may be a soldier now, he may have _always_ been a fighter- but he’s a lover too. Love is what he fights for more than anything. 

He leans in and steals a kiss of his own, thinks about how he’d almost stolen that lipstick last week. Luck being on his side is great, but Bucky being on his side is better. Better than whatever else he could wish for or want. 

Leaning their foreheads together, he tells Bucky as much. “I love you. More than anything.” He told him already this morning, but hours have passed since then. So he tells him again. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Buck.”

Bucky tells him again too. “Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart.” He smiles, voice warm enough to make Steve forget about all that’s cooling on his skin thanks to them putting off cleaning up. “If I’m spending it with anyone, I’m glad it’s you.”

Me too, Steve thinks happily, sinking into hugging him once again. _Me too._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well . lemme ask the audience what they thought! as usual i hope you had a good time & thank you in advance for whatever feedback you are willing to give! i will see you soon with more unbearably soft fics and maybe some angst if i can steel up the courage. happy valentine’s day!

**Author's Note:**

> comments & kudos are what keeps the content coming, so feel free to spare what you can! feedback is my favorite. as usual, i hope you enjoyed. stay safe & see you next time around, this time for the next chapter out on valentine’s day!


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